The Tale of Timber Town. Grace Alfred Augustus

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СКАЧАТЬ their shares, and pocketed notes and gold with trembling hands.

      “Give your friend his, Tresco,” said the venerable arbitrator.

      “Here’s your winnings, or your losings,” said the goldsmith to the digger. “It don’t matter what name you call ’em by, but tuck it safely away agin your brisket. And when next you strike it rich, take my advice: put it in the bank, an’ keep it there.”

      The digger took the money in his open hands, placed scoopwise together, and said, “All this mine, is it? You’re too kind. What do I want the blanky money for, eh? Didn’t I tell you I could get money for the pickin’ of it up? Well, you’re all a pretty measly crowd, all as poor as church rats, by the manners of yer. Well, you pick it up.” And he flung the money among the crowd, lay back on the couch, and closed his eyes.

      There was a scurry, and a scrambling on the floor, in the doorway, and in the passage outside.

      Amid the tumult, Garsett and the American slunk off unperceived, while Tresco and Mr. Crewe, the landlord, Gentle Annie and Scarlett remained spectators of the scene.

      Soon all was hushed and still, and they were left alone with the eccentric digger; but presently the tall figure of Moonlight, the man with the tawny beard, reappeared.

      “Here’s fifty pound, anyway,” he said, placing a quantity of notes and gold in the landlord’s hands. “Some I picked up myself, some I took off a blackguard I knocked over in the passage. Take the lot, and give it back to this semi-lunatic when he suffers his recovery in the morning. Good-night, gentlemen; I wish you the pleasures of the evening.” So saying, the man with the tawny beard disappeared, and it was not long before Tresco was left alone with his patient.

      CHAPTER VIII

The Yellow Flag

      The harbour of Timber Town was formed by a low-lying island shaped like a long lizard, which stretched itself across an indentation in the coast-line, and the tail of which joined the mainland at low tide, while the channel between its head and the opposing cliffs was deep, practicable, and safe.

      Immediately opposite this end of the island the wharves and quays of Timber Town stretched along the shore, backed by hills which were dotted with painted wooden houses, nestling amid bowers of trees. Beyond these hills lay Timber Town itself, invisible, sheltered, at the bottom of its basin.

      The day was hot, clear and still; the water lapped the shore lazily, and the refracted atmosphere shimmered with heat, wherever the sea touched the land.

      A little dingey put off from the shore. It contained two men, one of whom sat in the stern while the other pulled. Silently over the surface of the calm, blue water the little craft skimmed. It passed through a small fleet of yachts and pleasure-boats moored under the lee of the protecting island, and presently touched the pebbles of a miniature beach.

      Out stepped the Pilot of Timber Town and Captain Sartoris.

      “An’ you call this blazin’ climate o’ yours temperate,” exclaimed the shipwrecked mariner.

      “Heat?” said the Pilot, making the painter of the boat fast to some rusty bits of iron that lay on the shore; “you call this heat, with the sea-breeze risin’, and the island cooling like a bottle of champagne in an ice-chest. It’s plain to see, Sartoris, you’re a packet-rat that never sailed nowhere except across the Western Ocean, in an’ out o’ Liverpool and New York.” They had approached the end of the island, and overlooked the harbour entrance. “Now, this is where I intend to place the beacon. What do you think of it?” Sartoris assumed the manner and expression of supreme interest, but said nothing. “Them two leading lights are all very well in their way, but this beacon, with the near one, will give a line that will take you outside o’ that sunken reef which stretches a’most into the fairway; and a vessel ’ll be able to come in, scientific and safe, just like a lady into a drawing-room.”

      With a seaman’s eye Sartoris took in the situation at a glance. “Very pretty,” he said, “very neat. A lovely little toy port, such as you see at the theayter. It only wants the chorus o’ fisher girls warbling on that there beach road, and the pirate brig bringing-to just opposite, an’ the thing would be complete.”

      “Eh! What?” ejaculated the Pilot. “What’s this play-goin’ gammon? You talk like a schoolboy that’s fed on jam tarts and novelettes, Sartoris. Let’s talk sense. Have you ever heard of an occulting light?”

      “No, certainly not; not by that name, anyhow.”

      “D’you know what an apparent light is?”

      “No, but I know plenty of apparent fools.”

      “An apparent light is a most ingenious contraption.”

      “I’ve no doubt.”

      “It’s a optical delusion, and makes two lights o’ one – one on shore, which is the real one, and one here, which is the deception.” But while the Pilot went on to talk of base plates, lewis bats, and all the paraphernalia of his craft, the skipper’s eye was fixed on a string of little islands which stood off the end of the western arm of the great bay outside.

      “Now, I never saw those when I was coming in,” said he. “Where did you get them islands from, Summerhayes? Are they occulting, real, or apparent? Changing your landmarks, like this, is deceiving.”

      The Pilot, forgetting the technicalities of his profession, looked at the phenomenon which puzzled the skipper, and said, as gruffly as a bear, “That’s no islands: it’s but a bit of a mirage. Sometimes there’s only one island, sometimes three, sometimes more – it’s accordin’ to circumstances. But what’s this craft coming down the bay? Barque or ship, Sartoris? – I’ve forgot me glass.”

      Both men stood on the seaward edge of the island, and looked long and hard at the approaching vessel.

      “Barque,” said Sartoris, whose eyes were keener than the older man’s.

      “There’s no barque due at this port for a month,” said the Pilot. “The consignees keep me posted up, for to encourage a sharp lookout. The Ida Bell should arrive from London towards the middle of next month, but she is a ship. This must be a stranger, putting in for water or stores; or maybe she’s short-handed.”

      For a long time they watched the big craft, sailing before the breeze.

      “Sartoris, she’s clewing up her courses and pulling down her head-sails.”

      “Isn’t she a trifle far out, Pilot?”

      “It’s good holding-ground out there – stiff clay that would hold anything. What did I tell you? – there you are – coming-to. She’s got starn-board. There goes the anchor!”

      The skipper had hitherto displayed but little interest in the strange vessel, but now he was shouting and gesticulating, as a flag was run up to her fore-truck.

      “Look at that, Summerhayes!” he exclaimed. “If you ain’t blind, tell me what that flag is. Sure as I’m a master without a ship, it’s the currantine flag.”

      “So it is, so it is. That means the Health Officer, Sartoris.” And the gruff old Pilot hastened down to the dingey.

      As the two seamen put off from the island, the skipper, who was in the stern of the little boat, could see Summerhayes’s crew standing about on the slip of the pilot-shed; and by the СКАЧАТЬ