Chapter 5

He sat there, chuckling, when Joel got abruptly to his feet and went on deck; and when he came up the companion a little later, he was still chuckling under his breath.

After that first morning, Priss was able to cloak her eyes and hide her thoughts; and on the surface, life aboard the _Nathan Ross_ seemed to go on as before. Mark threw himself into the routine of the work, mixing with the men, going off in the boats when there was a whale to be struck, doing three men's share of toil. Joel one day remonstrated with him. "It is not wise," he said. "You were captain here; you are my brother. It is not wise for you to mix, as an equal, with the men."

Mark only laughed at him. "Your dignity is very precious to you, Joel," he mocked. "But as for me--I am not proud. You'd not have me sit aft and twiddle my thumbs and hold yarn for little Priss.... And I must be doing something...."

He and Jim Finch were much together. Finch always gave Joel careful obedience, always handled the ship when he was in charge with smooth efficiency. His boat was the best manned and the most successful of the four. But he and Joel were not comradely. Joel instinctively disliked the big man; and Finch's servility disgusted him. The mate was full of smooth and flattering words, but his eyes were shallow.

Mark talked with him long, one morning; and then he left Finch and came to Joel, by the after house, chuckling as though at some enormous jest. "Will ye look at Finch, there?" he begged.

Joel had been watching the two. He saw Finch now, standing just forward of the boat house with flushed cheeks and eyes fixed and hands twitching. The big man was powerfully moved by something.... "What is it that's got him?" Joel asked.

"I've told him about the pearls," Mark chuckled. "He's wild to be after them...."

Joel turned on his brother hotly. "You're mad, Mark," he snapped. "That is no word to be loose in the ship."

"I've but told Finch," Mark protested. "It's mirthful to watch the man wiggle."

"He'll tell the ship. His tongue wags unceasingly."

Mark lifted his shoulders. "Tell him to be silent. You should keep order on your ship, Joel."

Joel beckoned, and Finch came toward them. As he came, he fought for self control; and when he stood before them, his lips were twisting into something like a smile, and his eyes were shifty and gleaming. Joel said quietly:

"Mr. Finch, my brother says he has told you his story."

"Yes, sir," said Finch. "An extraordinary adventure, Captain Shore."

"I think it best the men should know nothing about it," Joel told him. "You will please keep it to yourself."

Finch grinned. "Of course, sir. There's no need they should have any share in them."

Joel flushed angrily. "We are not going after them. I consider it dangerous, and unwise."

Over Finch's fat cheeks swept a twitching grimace of dismay. "But I thought...." He looked at Mark, and Mark was chuckling. "It's so easy, sir," he protested. "Just go, and get them.... Rich...."

Joel shook his head. "Keep silent about the matter, Finch."

Finch slowly bowed his head, and he smirked respectfully. "Very well, Captain Shore," he agreed. "You always know best, sir."

He turned away; and after a little Mark said softly: "You have him well trained, Joel. Like a little dog.... I wonder that you can handle men so...."

Two days later, Joel knew that either Finch or Mark had told the tale anew. Young Dick Morrell came to him with shining eyes. "Is it true, sir, that we're going after the pearls your brother hid?" he asked. "I just heard...."

Joel gripped the boy's arm. "Who told you?"

Morrell twisted free, half angry. "I--overheard it, sir. Is it true?"

"No," said Joel. "We're a whaler, and we stick to our trade."

Dick lifted both hands, in a gesture almost pleading. "But it would be so simple, sir...."

"Keep the whole matter quiet, Morrell," Joel told him. "I do not wish the men to know of it. And if you hear any further talk, report it to me."

Morrell's eyes were sulky. He said slowly: "Yes, sir." The set of his shoulders, as he stalked forward, seemed to Joel defiant....

Within the week, the whole ship knew the story. Old Aaron Burnham, repairing a bunk in the fo'c's'le, heard the men whispering the thing among themselves. "Tongues hissing like little serpents, sir," he told Joel, in the cabin that night. "All of pearls, and women, and the like.... And a shine in their eyes...."

"Thanks, Aaron," Joel said. "I'm sorry the men know...."

"Aye, they know. Be sure of that," Aaron repeated, with bobbing head. "And they're roused by what they know. Some say you're going after the pearls, and aim to fraud them of their lay. And some say you're a mad fool that will not go...."

Joel's fist, on the table, softly clenched. "What else?" he asked.

Aaron watched him sidewise. "There was a whisper that you might be made to go...."

Priscilla saw, that night, that Joel was troubled. She and Mark were together on the cushioned seat in the after cabin, and Joel sat at his desk, over the log. Mark was telling Priss an expurgated version of some one of his adventures; and Joel, looking once or twice that way, saw the quick-caught breath in her throat, saw her tremulous interest.... And his eyes clouded, so that when Priscilla chanced to look toward him, she saw, and cried:

"Joel! What's the matter? You look so...."

He looked from one of them to the other for a space; and then his eyes rested on Mark's, and he said slowly: "It's in my mind that I'd have done best to set you ashore at Tubuai, Mark."

Mark laughed; but Priss cried hotly: "Joel! What a perfectly horrible thing to say!" Her voice had grown deeper and more resonant of late, Joel thought. It was no longer the voice of a girl, but of a woman.... Mark touched her arm.

"Don't care about him," he told her. "That's only brotherly love...."

"He oughtn't to say it."

Joel said quietly: "This is a matter you do not understand, Priscilla. You would do well to keep silent. It is my affair."

A month before, this would have swept Priss into a fury of anger; but this night, though her eyes burned with slow resentment, she bit her lips and was still. A month ago, she would have forgotten over night. Now she would remember....

Mark got up, laughed. "He's bad company, Priss," he told her. "Come on deck with me."

She rose, readily enough; and they went out through the main cabin, and up the companionway. Joel watched them go. They left open the door into the cabin, and he heard Varde and Finch, at the table there, talking in husky whispers.... It was so, he knew, over the whole ship. Everywhere, the men were whispering.... There hung over the _Nathan Ross_ a cloud as definite as a man's hand; and every man scowled--save Mark Shore. Mark smiled with malicious delight at the gathering storm he had provoked....

Joel, left in the after cabin, felt terribly lonely. He wanted Priss with him, laughing, at his side. His longing for her was like a hot coal in his throat, burning there. And she had taken sides with Mark, against him.... His shoulders shook with the sudden surge of his desire to grip Mark's lean throat.... Ashore, he would have done so. But as things were, the ship was his first charge; and a break with Mark would precipitate the thing that menaced the ship.... He could not fight Mark without risking the _Nathan Ross_; and he could not risk the _Nathan Ross_. Not even.... His head dropped for an instant in his arms, and then he got up quickly, and shook himself, and set his lips.... No man aboard must see the trouble in his heart....

He went through the main cabin, and climbed to the deck. There was some sea running, and a wind that brushed aside all smaller sounds, so that he made little noise. Thus, when he reached the top of the companion, he saw two dark figures in the shadows of the boat house, closely clasped....

He stood for an instant, white hot.... His wife, and Mark.... His little Priss, and his brother....

Then he went quietly below, and glanced at the chart, and chose a course upon it. The nearest land; he and Mark ashore together.... His blood ran hungrily at the thought....

XI

Priscilla went on deck that night so angry with Joel that she could have killed him; and Mark played upon her as a skilled hand plays upon the harp. It was such a night as the South Seas know, warm and languorous, the wind caressing, and the salt spray stinging gently on the cheek. The moon was near the full, and it laid a path of silver on the water. This path was like the road to fairyland; and Mark told Priscilla so. He dropped into a gay little phantasy that he conceived on the moment, a story of fairies, and of dancing in the moonlight, and of a man and a woman, hand in hand....

She felt the spell he laid upon her, and struggled against it. "Tell me about the last fight, when the little brown girl was killed," she begged.

He had told her snatches of his story here and there; but he had not, till that night, spoken of the pearls. When Priss heard of them, she swung about and lifted up her face to his, listening like a child. And Mark told the story with a tongue of gold, so that she saw it all; the lagoon, blue in the sun; and the schooner creeping in from the sea; and the hours of flight through the semi-jungle of the island, with the blacks in such hot pursuit. He told her of the times when they surrounded him, when he fought himself free.... How he got a great stone and gripped it in his hand, and how with this stone he crushed the skull of a young black with but one eye. Priss shuddered with delicious horror at the tale....

She loved best to hear of the little brown girl whom Mark had loved; and that would have told either of them, if they had stopped to consider, that she did not love Mark. Else she would have hated the other, brown or white.... And he told how the brown girl saved him, and gave her life in the saving, and how he had stopped at a little atoll on his homeward way and buried her.... She had died in his arms, smiling because she lay there....

"And the pearls?" Priss asked, when she had heard the story through. "You left them there?"

"There they are still," he told her. "Safely hid away."

"How many?" she asked. "Are they lovely?"

"Three big ones, and thirty-two of a fair size, and enough little ones and seeds to make a double handful."

"But why did you leave them there?"

"The black men were on the island. They were there, and watchful, and very angry."

"Couldn't you have kept them in your pocket?"

He laughed. "That other schooner made me cautious. Man's life is cheap, in such matters. And if they guessed I had such things upon me.... If I slept too soundly, or the like.... D'ye see?"

She nodded her dark head. "I see. But you'll go back...."

He chuckled at that, and tapped on the rail with one knuckle, in a thoughtful way. "I had thought that Joel and I would go, in the _Nathan Ross_, and fetch the things away," he said.

"Of course," she exclaimed. "That would be so easy.... I'd love to see the--pearls...."

"Easy? That was my own thought," he agreed. Something in his tone prompted her question.

"Why--isn't it?"

"Joel objects," he said drily.

"He--won't. But why? I don't understand. Why?"

Mark laughed. "He speaks of a matter of duty, not to risk the ship."

"Is there a risk?"

"No." He chuckled maliciously. "As a matter of cold fact, Priss, I'm fearful that Joel is a bit--timid in such affairs."

She flamed at him: "Afraid?"

He nodded.

"I don't believe it."

His eyes shone. "What a loyal little bride? But--I taxed him with it. And--that was the word he used...."

She was so angry that she beat upon Mark's great breast with her tiny fists. "It's not true! It's not true!" she cried. "You know...."

Abruptly, Mark took fire. She was swept in his arms, clipped there, half-lifted from the deck to meet his lips that dipped to hers. She was like nothing in his grasp; she could not stir.... And from his lips, and circling arms, and great body the hot fire of the man flung through her.... She fought him.... But even in that terrific moment she knew that Joel had never swept or whelmed her so....

She twisted her face away.... And thus, from the shadow where they stood, she saw Joel. He was at the top of the cabin companion, looking toward them, his face illumined by the light from below. And she watched for an instant, frozen with terror, expecting him to leap toward them and plunge at Mark and buffet him....

Joel stood for an instant, unstirring. Then he turned, very quietly, and went down stairs again into the cabin....

She thought, sickly, that he had shirked; he had seen, and held his hand....

What was it Mark had said? Afraid....

Mark had not seen Joel. He kissed her again. Then she twisted away from him, and fled below.

Joel was at his desk. He did not look up at her coming; and she stood for an instant, behind him, watching his bent head....

Then she slipped into her own cabin, and snapped the latch, and plunged her face in her pillow to stifle bursting sobs.

XII

The _Nathan Ross_ changed course that day; and the word went around the ship. It passed from man to man. There was whispering; and there were dark looks, flung toward Joel.

Joel kept the deck all day, silent, and watchful, and waiting. Mark spoke to him once or twice, asking what he meant to do. Joel told him nothing. He had fought out his fight the night before; he knew himself....

Mark and Finch talked together, during the morning. Joel watched them without comment. Later he saw Mark speak to the other mates, one by one. At dinner in the cabin, the mates were silent. Their eyes had something of shame in them, and something of venomous hate.... They already hated Joel, whom they planned to wrong....

The day was fair, and the wind drove them smoothly. There was no work to be done, never a spout on the sea. Joel, watching once or twice the whispering groups of idle men, wished a whale might be sighted; and once he sent Morrell and Varde to find tasks for the men to do, and kept them at it through the long afternoon, scraping, scrubbing, painting....

Priss kept to her cabin. When she did not appear at breakfast, Joel went to her door and knocked. She called to him: "I've a headache. I'm going to rest." He ordered that food be sent to her....

He stayed on deck till late, that night; but with the coming of night the ship had grown quiet, and most of the men were below in the fo'c's'le. So at last Joel left the deck to Varde, and went below. He sat down at his desk and wrote up the day's log....

Priss came to him there. She had been in bed; and she wore a heavy dressing gown over her night garments. Her hair was braided, hanging across her shoulders. She sat down beside the desk, and when Joel could fight back the misery in his eyes, he looked toward her and asked:

"Is your head--better?"

She said very quietly: "Joel, I want to ask you something."

He wanted her sympathy so terribly, and her tone was so cool and so aloof that he winced; but he said: "Very well?"

"Mark says he asked you to take the _Nathan Ross_ to get--the pearls he left on that island. Is that true?"

"Yes," said Joel.

"He says you would not do it."

"I will not do it," Joel told her.

"He says," said Priss quietly, "that you are afraid. He says that was your own word ... when he accused you. Is that true?"

If there had been any sympathy or understanding in her voice or in her eyes, he would have told her ... told her that it was for his ship and not for himself that he was afraid. But there was not. She was so cold and hard.... He would not seek to justify himself to her....

"Yes," he said quietly. "I used that word."

She turned her eyes quickly away from his, that he might not see the pain in hers.... She rose to go back to her cabin....

As she reached the door, some one knocked on the door that led to the main cabin; and without waiting for word from Joel, that door opened. Mark stood there. He came in, with Finch, and Varde, and old Hooper and young Morrell on his heels.... Priss shrank back into her cabin, closed the door to a crack, listened....

Joel got to his feet. "What is it?" he asked.

Mark bowed low, faced his brother with a cold and triumphant smile. "These gentlemen have asked me," he explained, "to tell you that we have decided to go fetch the pearls."

XIII

When Priss, through the crack in the door, heard what Mark had said, she shut the door of her cabin soundlessly, and crouched against it, listening. She was trembling....

There was a long moment when no one of the men in the after cabin spoke. Then big Jim Finch said suavely: "That is to say, if Captain Shore does not object."

Joel asked then: "What if I do object?"

Mark laughed. "If you do object, why--we'll just go anyway. But you'll have no share."

And surly Varde added: "We'd as soon you did object."

Mark bade him be quiet. "That's not true, Joel," he said. "You know, I wanted you in this, from the first. Your coming in will--prevent complications. With you in, the whole matter is very simple, and safe.... But without you, we will be forced to take measures that may be--reprehensible."

Joel did not speak; and Priss, trembling against the door, thought bitterly: "He's afraid.... He said, himself, that he is afraid...."

Dick Morrell begged eagerly: "Please, Captain Shore. There's a fortune for all of us. Mr. Worthen would tell you to do it...."

Joel said then: "I told Mark Shore in the beginning that I would not risk my ship. The enterprise is not lawful. The pearls were stolen in the beginning; murder hung around them. Bad luck would follow them--and there are blacks on the island to prevent our finding them, in any case."

"There's no harm in going to see," Morrell urged.

"'Tis far out of our proper way. Wasted time. And--the men should be thinking of oil, not of pearls."

Mark laughed. "That may be," he agreed. "But the men's thoughts are already on the pearls. They've no mind for whaling, Joel. They've no mind for it."

"I'm doubtful that what you say is true."

His brother snapped angrily: "Do you call me liar?"

"No," said Joel gently. "You were never one to lie, Mark." And Priss, listening, winced at the thing that was like apology in his tone. She heard Mark laugh again, aloud; and she heard the fat chuckle of Jim Finch. Then Mark said:

"It's well you remember that. So.... Will you go with us; or do we go without you?"

There was a long moment of silence before Joel answered. At last he said: "You're making to spill blood on the _Nathan Ross_, Mark. I've no mind for that. I'll not have it--if I can stop it. So ... I'll consider this matter, to-night, and give you your answer in the morning."

"You'll answer now," Varde said sullenly. "There's too much words and words.... You'll answer now."

"I'll answer in the morning," Joel repeated, as though he had not heard Varde. "In the morning. And--for now--I'll bid you good night, gentlemen."

Mark chuckled. "There's one matter, Joel. You've two rifles and a pair of revolvers in the lockfast by your cabin there. I'll take them--to avoid that blood-spilling you mention."

Priss held her breath, listening.... But Joel said readily: "Yes. Here is the key, Mark. And--I hold you responsible for the weapons."

Her anger at Joel for his submission beat in her ears; and she heard the jingle of the keys, and the scrape and ring of the weapons as Mark took them. He called to Joel as he did so: "They'll not leave my hands. Till the morning, Joel, my boy...."

The keys jingled again. Mark said: "We'll ask you to stay in the after cabin here till morning. And--Varde will be in the main cabin to see that you do it."

"I'll stay here," Joel promised.

"Then--we'll bid you good night!"

Priss heard Joel echo the words, in even tones. Then the door closed behind the men.... There was no further sound in the after cabin.

She opened her door. Joel stood by his desk, head drooping, one hand resting on the open log before him. She went toward him, and when he turned and saw her, she stopped, and studied him, her eyes searching his. And at last she said, so softly it was as though she spoke to herself:

"'All the brothers were valiant,' Joel. Are you--just a coward?"

He would not justify himself to her; he could only remember the shadowed deck beneath the boat house--Priscilla in his brother's arms.... He lifted his right hand a little, said sternly:

"Go back to your place."

She flung her eyes away from him, stood for an instant, then went to her cabin with feet that lagged and stumbled.

XIV

Joel lay for an hour, planning what he should do. He could not yield.... He could not yield, even though he might wish to do so; for the yielding would forfeit forever all control over these men, or any others. He could not yield....

Yet he did not wish to fight; for the battle would be hopeless, with only death at the end for him, and it would ruin the men and lose the ship.... Blood marks a ship with a mark that cannot be washed away. And Joel loved his ship; and he loved his men with something of the love of a father for children. Children they were. He knew them. Simple, easily led, easily swept by some adventurous vision....

He slept, at last, dreamlessly; and in the morning, when they came to him, he told them what he wished to do.

"Call the men aft," he said. "I'll speak to them. We'll see what their will is."

Mark mocked him. "Ask the men, is it?" he exclaimed. "Let them vote, you'll be saying. Are you master of the ship, man; or just first selectman, that you'd call a town meeting on the high seas?"

"I'll talk with the men," said Joel stubbornly.

Varde strode forward angrily. "You'll talk with us," he said. "Yes or no. Now. What is it?"

They were in the main cabin. Joel looked at Varde steadily for an instant; then he said: "I'm going on deck. You'll come...."

Priss, in the door of the after cabin, a frightened and trembling little figure, called to him: "Joel. Joel. Don't...."

He said, without turning: "Stay in your cabin, Priscilla." And then he passed between Varde and Finch, at the foot of the companion, and turned his back upon them and went steadily up the steep, ladder-like stair. Varde made a convulsive movement to seize his arm; but Mark touched the man, held him with his eyes, whispered something....

They had left old Hooper on deck. He and Aaron Burnham were standing in the after house when Joel saw them. Joel said to the third mate: "Mr. Hooper, tell the men to lay aft."

Mark had come up at Joel's heels; and Hooper looked past Joel to Mark for confirmation. And Mark smiled mirthlessly, and approved. "Yes, Mr. Hooper, call the men," he said. "We're to hold a town meeting."

Old Hooper's slow brain could not follow such maneuvering; nevertheless, he bellowed a command. And the harpooners from the steerage, and the men from forecastle and fore deck came stumbling and crowding aft. The men stopped amidships; and Joel went toward them a little ways, until he was under the boat house. The mates stood about him, the harpooners a little to one side; and Mark leaned on the rail at the other side of the deck, watching, smiling.... The revolvers were in his belt; the rifles leaned against the after rail. He polished the butt of one of the revolvers while he watched and smiled....

Joel said, without preamble: "Men, the mates tell me that you've heard of my brother's pearls."

The men looked at one another, and at the mates. They were a jumbled lot, riff-raff of all the seas, Cape Verders, Islanders, a Cockney or two, a Frenchman, two or three Norsemen, and a backbone of New England stock. They looked at one another, and at the mates, with stupid, questioning eyes; and one or two of them nodded in a puzzled way, and the Cape Verders grinned with embarrassment. A New Englander drawled:

"Aye, sir. We've heard th' tale."