Part 10

It was no new thing for the man to study Faith's countenance. It was firm-fastened in his thoughts; he could conjure it up at will, and it appeared before him, many times, without his volition. Faith's eyes were blue, and they were large, and Brander could never forget them. The eye of a man or of a woman is a thing almost alive; it seems to have a soul of its own. Stand at one side, unobserved, and watch the eyes of your friend; you will feel that you are watching some living personality apart from the friend you know. It is like watching a wild thing which is hiding in the forest. The eye is so alert, so infinitely alert, so quick to swing to right or left at any sound....

Women's eyes differ as much as women themselves. Faith's eyes were like Faith herself; there was no fear or uncertainty in them; and there was no coquettishness, no seduction. They were level and calm and perfectly assured; and Brander thought that to look into them was like taking a strong man's hand. He thought Faith as fine a thing as woman can be....

Brander made sure that Faith did not see him studying her thus; nevertheless, Faith must have felt his scrutiny. She was conscious of an unaccountable diffidence; and when she spoke to him at last, without looking toward him, her voice was so low he scarcely heard at all. She said some idle thing about the beauty of the sea....

Brander smiled. The sky was so clear, and the heavens were so blue that sky and heaven seemed to be cousins or sisters, hands clasping at the far horizon. He said amiably: "Always think--looking off into the blue on a day like this is like looking deep into blue eyes.... There seems to be a soul off there, something hidden, out of sight.... But you can feel it looking back at you."

Faith was so surprised that she looked up at him quickly, sidewise; and she smiled, her cheeks a little flushed. "I never felt--just that," she said. "But--did you ever look at a hill, so far away it is just a deep blue shape against the sky? Blue's a beautiful color to look at, I think."

He nodded. "From my hill," he said, "I used to be able to see an island northwest of the one where I was.... Barely see it. Just a line laid down along the sea.... A line of blue."

She said nothing in reply to this; and he said no more. They were thus silent for a little before Faith asked: "Tell me.... You've never had a chance.... How did you live, there? Wasn't it lonely? Or ... were there others?..."

He laughed. "I wasn't lonely, in the least," he explained. "The old devil-devil doctor of the village struck up an acquaintance with me.... He knew whites; and I was the only one there at the time. He used to come and talk to me, and say charms over my garden.... I had a little compass on my watch chain, and I gave it to him, and the old heathen was my slave for life. So I arranged with him to have my path taboo--you remember I told you.... And he was the only company I ever had."

"You had a--garden?"

"Yes. Good one. I put up a house, about six feet square--big enough for me, and no more--and I trimmed down some trees around there; and there was a little brook, and a shallow basin in the side of the hill where rich soil had been collecting for a good many centuries, I suppose. I think if I had planted pebbles there, it would have grown bowlders for me. It did grow all I wanted."

She was thoughtful for a little, looked at him once. "Why did you ever ship as a whaler?" she asked. "You don't look like the men that ship in the fo'c's'le."

He laughed. "I know it. Maybe because I like the sea. My home was in sight of it; a high old farm up in Maine, five miles inland. I used to sit out on the hill there and watch the night come up from the east and blanket the water; and when there was a surf I could hear it; and when I could, I went down and got acquainted with the water, swimming, or poking around in an old dory.... It was bound to get me in the end. My father sent me to school.... He wanted me to be a doctor. But after two years of it, I begged off.... And he let me go."

She nodded. "I know--a little--how you feel. I've always loved the smell of the sea at home, and the sight of it.... But...." She grimaced harshly. "I'm getting a bit tired of salt water, all the time.... I want to get ashore."

"Sure," Brander chuckled. "And when you've been a month ashore, you'll be hungry for the sea again. It's like a drug; you get used to it, and you can't do without it."

She looked at him. "Do you think so?"

"I know it. Wait and see."

After a little, she spoke of the ill luck that had pursued the _Sally_. "Isn't it unusual to go almost six weeks without getting a whale?"

"No, not necessarily," he told her. "You may kill every other day for a year, and not see a fish for three months after. The whale seems to come and go, in some waters...."

"These?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's uncertain, here. We're working over now into better hunting grounds. The _Sally's_ done well, thus far, anyway. Almost a thousand barrels, and not out a year. I've heard of ships that came home with empty casks."

She looked at him curiously. "I think you know more about the work than most men aboard," she said. "Yet you've not had the experience...."

"I've picked it up at games, read it, guessed it," he said pleasantly. "They know more about the practical end than I. I haven't been tried out yet, you know."

She smiled. "Mr. Tichel says you're a Jonah," she told him. "I think he would be in favor of throwing you overboard."

He laughed cheerfully. She added: "I hope you're not one. I'm anxious that Cap'n Wing should make a big record on this cruise. It's my first with him, you know...."

His eyes were sober; but he said: "We'll fill the casks, all right. I wouldn't worry."

She looked toward him and said: "Yes, we will." There was an immense amount of quiet certainty and determination in her voice. Brander looked at her for an instant, then turned to give some direction to the man at the wheel. The _Sally_ heeled awkwardly to the thrust of the wind, and battered at the sea with her blunt bows. The rigging creaked and tugged. Willis Cox, under the boathouse, had dropped his book in his lap and was dozing in his chair; the two harpooners had gone below. Forward, Faith could see two or three men sprawled on the deck, asleep.... The warm, afternoon wind seemed slumber laden; the _Sally Sims_ herself was like a ship that walked in her sleep. A hush hung over them all, so that Faith and Brander unconsciously lowered their voices.

Faith asked casually: "Why is it that you and Mr. Tobey do not like each other?"

If he was surprised at the question, Brander did not show it. He said frankly: "I've no dislike for Mr. Tobey. He's an able officer. He knows his business."

"He does not like you," Faith said. "Why not?"

Brander smiled. "It may be," he admitted, "that Mr. Tobey is lacking in a sense of humor. I've a way of laughing at things.... Mr. Trant, on the _Thomas Morgan_, used to curse me for grinning so much of the time. Perhaps Mr. Tobey...."

He did not finish the sentence; he seemed to consider it unnecessary, or unwise.... Faith said nothing.... They stood together, eyes off across the water, balancing unconsciously to the motion of the ship. Their shoulders were almost brushing.... Brander felt the light contact on his coat; and he moved away a little, inconspicuously....

She turned at last toward the companion; but after one step, stopped and looked back at him. "I think," she said, "that Mr. Tobey believes you mean to claim that find of ambergris belongs to you."

Brander smiled, and nodded. "I know he does. There's no harm in puzzling Mr. Tobey."

"There may be harm--for you--in his believing that," she said; and for a moment Brander's level eyes met hers, and she saw a flame in his. He said quietly:

"I'm not particularly concerned...."

She bowed her head, to hide her eyes; and she went below so quickly it was as though she fled from him.

XVII

Faith had assured herself, from the beginning, that Brander had no real intention of claiming the ambergris was his personal booty. He was too sensible for that, she felt; and he was not greedy....

She had been sure; but like all women, she wished to be reassured. She had given Brander the chance to reassure her, speaking of the 'gris and of Dan'l Tobey's suspicions in the matter. It would have been so easy for Brander to laugh and say: "You know I have no such idea. It belongs to the _Sally_, of course...." That would have settled the thing, once and for all....

But Brander had not been frank and forthright. He had only said: "There's no harm in puzzling Mr. Tobey...." And when she had suggested that there might be harm for Brander in his attitude, his eyes had hardened with something like defiance in them.... He had said he was not worried as to what Dan'l might think or do. He thus remained as much of a puzzle to Faith as ever.... If he had deliberately planned to steal a place in her thoughts, he could have taken no better means. Faith, with her growing sense of responsibility for the _Sally_, for the success of the voyage, for the good renown of Noll Wing, was acutely concerned when anything threatened that success. The ambergris was properly a part of the _Sally's_ takings.... Brander must see it so. Did he mean to push his claim, to make trouble?...

She tried to find her answer to this question in Brander's face; she began to study him daily.... She perceived the strength of the man, and his poise and assurance. Brander was very sure of himself and of his capabilities, without in the least overrating them. He knew himself for a man; he bore himself as a man.... Faith respected him; without her realizing it, this respect and liking grew.

Unconsciously, Brander was ranked now and then in her thoughts beside her husband, Noll Wing; she compared the two men without willing to make the comparison. And in the process, she studied Noll Wing more closely than she had ever studied him before. It was at this time that she first marked the fact that Noll was shrinking, wasting the flesh from his bones. His skin was becoming loose; it sagged. His great chest was drawing in between his shoulders; his shoulders slumped forward. Also Faith saw, without understanding, that the great cords of his neck were beginning to stand out under the loose skin, that hollows were forming about them. The man's bull neck was melting away.... Faith saw, though she did not fully understand; she knew that Noll was aging, nothing more....

She was drawn to Noll, at this discovery, by a vast tenderness; but this tenderness was impersonal. She thought it a recrudescence of her old, strong love for the man; it was in fact only such a feeling as she might have had for a sick or wounded beast. She pitied Noll profoundly; she tried to make him happy, and comfortable. She sought, now and then, to woo him to cheerfulness and mirth; but Noll was shrinking, day by day, into a more confirmed habit of complaint; he whined constantly, where in the old days he would have stormed and commanded. And he resented Faith's attentions, resented her very presence about him. One day she went herself into the galley and prepared a dish she thought would please him; when she told him what she had done, he exclaimed:

"God's sake, Faith, quit fussing over me. I got along more'n twenty year without a woman...."

Faith would not let herself feel the hurt of this.... But even while she watched over Noll, Brander more and more possessed her thoughts. Her recognition of this fact led her to be the more attentive to Noll, as though to recompense him for the thing he was losing.... She had never so poured out herself upon him.

It was inevitable that this developing change in Faith should be marked by those in the cabin. Dan'l saw it, and Brander saw it.... Brander saw it, and at first his pulse leaped and pounded and his eyes shone with his thoughts.... On deck, about his duties, he carried the memory of her eyes always with him. Her eyes as she had looked at him, that day, and many days before. Questioning, a little wistful.... A little wondering....

But Brander was a strong man; and he put a grip upon himself. He was drawn to Faith; he knew that if he let himself go, he would be caught in a whirlwind of passion for her. But he did not choose to let himself go; and by the same token, he took care to have no part in what might be taking place in Faith herself. He knew that he might have played upon her awakened interest in him; he knew that it would be worth life itself to see more plainly that which he had glimpsed in her eyes; nevertheless, he put the thing away from him. When she was about, he became reticent, curt, abrupt.... He took refuge in an arrogance of tone, an absorption in his work. He began to drive his men....

Dan'l Tobey saw. Dan'l had eyes to see; and it was inevitable that he should discover the first hints of change in Faith. For he watched her jealously; and he watched Brander as he had watched him from the beginning. Dan'l saw Faith and Brander drawing together, day by day; and though he hated Brander the more for it, he was content to sit still and wait.... He counted upon their working Brander's own destruction between them, in the end; and Dan'l was in a destructive mood in those days. He hated the strength of Brander, the loyalty of Faith, the age of old Noll Wing, and the youth of Roy.... He was become, through overmuch brooding, a walking vessel of hate; it spilled out of him with every word, keep his voice as amiable as he might. He hated them all....

But he was careful to hide his resentment against Roy; he cultivated the boy, he worked little by little to debase Roy's standards of life, and he looked forward vaguely to a day when he might have use for the lad. Dan'l had no definite plan at this time save to destroy.... But for all his absorption in Faith, he had not failed to see that Noll Wing's strength was going out of him. If Noll were to die, Dan'l would be master of the _Sally_ and those aboard her....

Dan'l never lost sight of this possibility; he kept it well in mind; and he laid, little by little, the foundations upon which in that day he might build his strength. Roy was one of these foundations....

Dan'l saw one obstacle in his path, even with Noll gone. The men forward, and some of the under officers, were hotly loyal to Noll Wing; and by the same token they looked upon Faith with eyes of awed affection. Faith had that in her which commanded the respect of men; and Dan'l knew that the roughest man in the crew would fight to protect Faith, against himself or any other. He never forgot this....

When Roy Kilcup, last of them all, marked Faith's interest in Brander, the boy unwittingly gave Dan'l a chance to strike a blow at the men's trust in the captain's wife.

Roy, though he might quarrel with her most desperately, was at his heart devoted to Faith, and wild with his pride in her. He marked a look in her eyes one day; and it disturbed him. Dan'l found the boy on deck, staring out across the water, his eyes clouded with perplexity and doubt. Roy was aft; there was one of the men at the wheel. Dan'l glanced toward this man.... One of his own boat crew, by name Slatter, with a sly eye and a black tongue.... Dan'l spoke to him in passing, some command to keep the _Sally_ steady against the pressure of the wind, and stopped beside Roy, dropping his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Hello, Roy," he said amiably.

Roy looked up at him, nodded. Dan'l caught a glimpse of the shadow in his eyes and asked in a friendly tone: "What's wrong? You're worried about something...."

Roy shook his head. "No."

Dan'l laughed. "Shucks! You can't fool any one with that, Roy. If you don't want to talk...."

Roy hesitated; he studied Dan'l for a moment. "Dan'l," he said, "you've known Faith and me all our lives. I guess I can talk to you if I can to anybody. And I've got to talk to somebody, Dan'l."

Dan'l nodded soberly. "I'm here to be talked to. What's the matter, Roy?"

The boy asked abruptly: "Dan'l--have you noticed the way Faith looks at Brander?"

Dan'l had been half prepared for the question; nevertheless his fingers dug into his palms. He remained silent for a minute, thinking.... His thoughts raced.... And his eyes fell on foul-tongued Slatter, at the wheel.... There was a piece of luck; an instrument ready to his hand. Dan'l still hesitated for a space; his brows twisting.... Then the man threw all decency behind him, and flung himself at last into the paths toward which his feet had been tending. He moved to one side, so that Roy, facing him, must also face the man at the wheel; so that Roy's words would come to Slatter's ears. And Dan'l was very sure that Slatter would take care to hear....

For another moment he did not speak; then he laughed harshly; and he asked: "What do you mean, Roy?"

Roy repeated: "I mean the way Faith looks at Brander all the time. Looking at him.... A queer way...."

Dan'l Tobey seemed to be embarrassed; he looked to right and left, and he said huskily: "Shucks--I guess you've got too much imagination, Roy."

Roy shook his head. "No, I haven't, either, I've been watching her.... She looks at him, and her eyes get kind of misty like.... And if you say something to her, sometimes she doesn't hear you at all."

"She's got a right to think," Dan'l chuckled. "You talk too much, anyway, Roy.... No wonder she don't listen to you." His tone was good-natured. Roy fell silent for a moment, studying Dan'l's face; and Dan'l looked confused. Roy said sharply:

"Dan'l, haven't you seen, yourself, what I mean? Haven't you, Dan'l?"

Dan'l turned his head away; he would not meet Roy's eyes. Roy cried: "I knew you saw it.... Everybody must see...."

Dan'l said sternly: "Roy, you'd best not see too much. It don't pay. There's times when it's wise to see little and say nothing. If it was me, I'd say this was one of the times."

"That's all right," Roy admitted. "But I can talk to you...." He added suddenly: "Dan'l, Noll Wing is too old for Faith. She ought to have married you, Dan'l."

Children have a disconcerting way of sticking a word like a knife into our secret hearts; they see so clearly, and they have not yet learned to pretend they do not see. Roy, for all his eighteen years, was still as much child as man; and Dan'l winced. "Land, Roy," he protested. "Get that out of your head. Faith and me understand...."

Roy turned his back, looking aft. Dan'l glanced toward Slatter at the wheel. Slatter's back was toward them; but Dan'l could have sworn the man's ears were visibly pricking to miss no word. And Dan'l's eyes burned unpleasantly. A woman's strongest armor is her innocence. If Faith were tarnished in the eyes of the men in the fo'c's'le, she would have few defenders there.... The roughest man will honor a good woman; but he looks upon one who is soiled with contemptuous or greedy eyes. Dan'l was willing, for his own ends, that the fo'c's'le should think evil of Faith Wing.

While they stood thus, Brander came on deck, and spoke for a minute with Dan'l, then went slowly forward. Because he and Dan'l clashed so sharply, Brander had fallen into the way of spending much time amidships with the harpooners, or forward with the crew.... Dan'l's place was aft.... Roy watched Brander now as he spoke to the mate, watched him walk away. When Brander was gone, Dan'l looked toward Roy. Roy said quietly:

"Dan'l, if Brander tries to--to do anything to my sister, I'm going to kill him."

Dan'l said nothing; and Roy moved abruptly past him and went below....

He was not seeking Faith; but he came upon her there, in the main cabin. She was at the table, with a book, and paper and pen; and he stopped to look over her shoulder, and saw that she was making calculations.... Latitude and longitude.... He asked: "What are you doing?"

She looked up at him. "Studying navigation, Roy. Don't you want to?"

He stared at her. "What are you doing it for?"

"Because I want to. Besides.... It's a good thing to be able to find out where you are, on a world as big as this.... Don't you think?"

He flung himself into a chair across from her. "Look here, Faith.... Why do you keep looking at Brander? All the time?"

Faith was startled; she was startled not so much at what Roy said, as at what his words revealed to her. Nevertheless her voice was steady and quiet as she asked: "What do you mean, Roy?"

"The way you look at Brander. He's not fit for you to talk to.... To look at.... Anything. He's not fit to be around you...."

She laughed at him. "How do I look at Mr. Brander, Roy?" she asked.

"Why--like...." Roy groped for words; Faith was suddenly afraid of what he might say. She interrupted him.

"Don't be silly, Roy. Go away.... Don't bother me.... I'm busy with this, Roy."

He said: "You...." But she bent over her book; she paid him no attention for a moment. Roy, sitting opposite, studied the top of her head, and thought.... There was an expression in his eyes as though he were trying to remember something familiar that evaded him. In the silence, they could hear Cap'n Wing snoring in his cabin; they could hear old Tichel stir in his bunk at the other side of the ship; they could hear the muffled murmur of the voices of the harpooners, in the steerage. And all about them the timbers that were the fabric of the _Sally_ creaked and groaned as they yielded to the tug of the seas. Roy still stared with a puzzled frown at the top of Faith's brown head.... Faith did not look up from her book....

Suddenly Roy cried, in a low voice: "Faith! I know...." And, all in a burst: "You look at Brander just like you used to look at Noll Wing when we were kids...."

Faith went white; and she rose to her feet so swiftly that the book was overturned on the table, the loose sheets of paper fluttered, the pen rolled across to the edge of the table and fell and stuck on its point in the cabin floor....

With a motion swift as light, forgetting book and paper and pen, Faith slipped across, into the after cabin. She shut the door in Roy's face, and he heard her slip the catch upon it.

Roy stared at the closed door; then he went abstractedly around the table and pulled the pen loose from the floor. The steel point was twisted, spoiled.

XVIII

The _Sally_ came, abruptly, into a sea that was full of whales. At nightfall they had not smelled oil for weeks; at dawn there were spouts on three quarters of the horizon; and thereafter for more than a month there were never three successive days when they did not sight whales.

This turn of the luck brought three things to pass: Roy Kilcup had his first chance in the boats during the chase; Brander killed his first whale as an officer of the _Sally_; and Noll Wing killed the last cachalot that was ever to feel his lance.

Dan'l Tobey had promised Roy, at the time when Brander was promoted to be mate, that he would give the boy a chance in his boat. He put Roy on the after thwart, under his own eye, and Roy leaned to the oar and pulled with all his might, and bit his lip to hold back the sobbing of his breath. The boy came of whaling stock; his father and his father's father had been men of the sea. And he did not turn white when the boat's bow slid at last alongside a slumbering black mass, and the keen harpoons chocked home.

That first experience of Roy's was a mild one. The whale, a fairish bull, showed no fight whatever. He took the irons as a baby takes soothing sirup; and he lay still while they pulled alongside and prodded him with a lance. At the last, when his spout was a crimson fountain, he gave one gigantic forward leap; but he was dead not ten fathoms from the spot where he lay when the first harpoon went home; and thereafter there was only the long toil of towing the monster back to the ship for the cutting in.