XIII. MORAN STERNERSEN
San Francisco once more! For two days the "Bertha Millner" had beenbeating up the coast, fighting her way against northerly winds, buttinginto head seas.
The warmth, the stillness, the placid, drowsing quiet of MagdalenaBay, steaming under the golden eye of a tropic heaven, the white, bakedbeach, the bay-heads, striated with the mirage in the morning, thecoruscating sunset, the enchanted mystery of the purple night, withits sheen of stars and riding moon, were now replaced by the hale andvigorous snorting of the Trades, the roll of breakers to landward, andthe unremitting gallop of the unnumbered multitudes of gray-green seas,careering silently past the schooner, their crests occasionally hissinginto brusque eruptions of white froth, or smiting broad on under hercounter, showering her decks with a sprout of icy spray. It was cold;at times thick fogs cloaked all the world of water. To the east aprocession of bleak hills defiled slowly southward; lighthouses werepassed; streamers of smoke on the western horizon marked the passage ofsteamships; and once they met and passed close by a huge Cape Horner,a great deep-sea tramp, all sails set and drawing, rolling slowly andleisurely in seas that made the schooner dance.
At last the Farallones looked over the ocean's edge to the north; thencame the whistling-buoy, the Seal Rocks, the Heads, Point Reyes, theGolden Gate flanked with the old red Presidio, Lime Point with itswatching cannon; and by noon of a gray and boisterous day, under a lustywind and a slant of rain, just five months after her departure, the"Bertha Millner" let go her anchor in San Francisco Bay some few hundredyards off the Lifeboat Station.
In this berth the schooner was still three or four miles from thecity and the water-front. But Moran detested any nearer approach tocivilization, and Wilbur himself was willing to avoid, at least for oneday, the publicity which he believed the "Bertha's" reappearance wassure to attract. He remembered, too, that the little boat carried withher a fortune of $100,000, and decided that until it could be safelylanded and stored it was not desirable that its existence should beknown along "the Front."
For days, weeks even, Wilbur had looked eagerly forward to this returnto his home. He had seen himself again in his former haunts, in hisclub, and in the houses along Pacific avenue where he was received;but no sooner had the anchor-chain ceased rattling in the "Bertha's"hawse-pipe than a strange revulsion came upon him. The new man thatseemed to have so suddenly sprung to life within him, the Wilbur whowas the mate of the "Bertha Millner," the Wilbur who belonged to Moran,believed that he could see nothing to be desired in city life. Forhim was the unsteady deck of a schooner, and the great winds and thetremendous wheel of the ocean's rim, and the horizon that ever fledbefore his following prow; so he told himself, so he believed. Whatattractions could the city offer him? What amusements? what excitements?He had been flung off the smoothly spinning circumference ofwell-ordered life out into the void.
He had known romance, and the spell of the great, simple, and primitiveemotions; he had sat down to eat with buccaneers; he had seen thefierce, quick leap of unleashed passions, and had felt death swoop closeat his nape and pass like a swift spurt of cold air. City life, his oldlife, had no charm for him now. Wilbur honestly believed that hewas changed to his heart's core. He thought that, like Moran, he washenceforth to be a sailor of the sea, a rover, and he saw the rest ofhis existence passed with her, aboard their faithful little schooner.They would have the whole round world as their playground; they held theearth and the great seas in fief; there was no one to let or to hinder.They two belonged to each other. Once outside the Heads again, and theyswept the land of cities and of little things behind them, and they twowere left alone once more; alone in the great world of romance.
About an hour after her arrival off the station, while Hoang and thehands were furling the jib and foresail and getting the dory over theside, Moran remarked to Wilbur:
"It's good we came in when we did, mate; the glass is going down fast,and the wind's breezing up from the west; we're going to have a blow;the tide will be going out in a little while, and we never could havecome in against wind and tide."
"Moran," said Wilbur, "I'm going ashore--into the station here; there'sa telephone line there; see the wires? I can't so much as turn my handover before I have some shore-going clothes. What do you suppose theywould do to me if I appeared on Kearney Street in this outfit? I'll ringup Langley & Michaels--they are the wholesale chemists in town--and havetheir agent come out here and talk business to us about our ambergris.We've got to pay the men their prize-money; then as soon as we getour own money in hand we can talk about overhauling and outfitting the'Bertha.'"
Moran refused to accompany him ashore and into the Lifeboat Station.Roofed houses were an object of suspicion to her. Already she had begunto be uneasy at the distant sight of the city of San Francisco, Nob,Telegraph, Russian, and Rincon hills, all swarming with buildings andgrooved with streets; even the land-locked harbor fretted her. Wilburcould see she felt imprisoned, confined. When he had pointed out thePalace Hotel to her--a vast gray cube in the distance, overtopping thesurrounding roofs--she had sworn under her breath.
"And people can live there, good heavens! Why not rabbit-burrows, andbe done with it? Mate, how soon can we be out to sea again? I hate thisplace."
Wilbur found the captain of the Lifeboat Station in the act of sittingdown to a dinner of boiled beef and cabbage. He was a strongly builtwell-looking man, with the air more of a soldier than a sailor. He hadalready been studying the schooner through his front window and hadrecognized her, and at once asked Wilbur news of Captain Kitchell.Wilbur told him as much of his story as was necessary, but from thecaptain's talk he gathered that the news of his return had long sincebeen wired from Coronado, and that it would be impossible to avoid anine days' notoriety. The captain of the station (his name was Hodgson)made Wilbur royally welcome, insisted upon his dining with him, andhimself called up Langley & Michaels as soon as the meal was over.
It was he who offered the only plausible solution of the mystery of thelifting and shaking of the schooner and the wrecking of the junk. ThoughWilbur was not satisfied with Hodgson's explanation, it was the only onehe ever heard.
When he had spoken of the matter, Hodgson had nodded his head."Sulphur-bottoms," he said.
"Sulphur-bottoms?"
"Yes; they're a kind of right-whale; they get barnacles and a kind ofmarine lice on their backs, and come up and scratch them selves againsta ship's keel, just like a hog under a fence."
When Wilbur's business was done, and he was making ready to return tothe schooner, Hodgson remarked suddenly: "Hear you've got a strappingfine girl aboard with you. Where did you fall in with her?" and hewinked and grinned.
Wilbur started as though struck, and took himself hurriedly away;but the man's words had touched off in his brain a veritable mine ofconjecture. Moran in Magdalena Bay was consistent, congruous, and fittedinto her environment. But how--how was Wilbur to explain her to SanFrancisco, and how could his behavior seem else than ridiculous to themen of his club and to the women whose dinner invitations he was wont toreceive? They could not understand the change that had been wroughtin him; they did not know Moran, the savage, half-tamed Valkyrie sosuddenly become a woman. Hurry as he would, the schooner could not beput to sea again within a fortnight. Even though he elected to liveaboard in the meanwhile, the very business of her preparation would callhim to the city again and again. Moran could not be kept a secret. As itwas, all the world knew of her by now. On the other hand he could easilyunderstand her position; to her it seemed simplicity itself that theytwo who loved each other should sail away and pass their lives togetherupon the sea, as she and her father had done before.
Like most men, Wilbur had to walk when he was thinking hard. He sent thedory back to the schooner with word to Moran that he would take a walkaround the beach and return in an hour or two. He set off along theshore in the direction of Fort Mason, the old red-brick fort at theentrance to the Golden Gate. At this point in the Presidio Governmentres
ervation the land is solitary. Wilbur followed the line of the beachto the old fort; and there, on the very threshold of the Westernworld, at the very outpost of civilization, sat down in the lee of thecrumbling fortification, and scene by scene reviewed the extraordinaryevents of the past six months.
In front of him ran the narrow channel of the Golden Gate; to his rightwas the bay and the city; at his left the open Pacific.
He saw himself the day of his advent aboard the "Bertha" in his top hatand frock coat; saw himself later "braking down" at the windlass, the"Petrel" within hailing distance.
Then the pictures began to thicken fast: the derelict bark "LadyLetty" rolling to her scuppers, abandoned and lonely; the "boy" in thewheel-box; Kitchell wrenching open the desk in the captain's stateroom;Captain Sternersen buried at sea, his false teeth upside down; the blackfury of the squall, and Moran at the wheel; Moran lying at fulllength on the deck, getting the altitude of a star; Magdalena Bay; theshark-fishing; the mysterious lifting and shuddering of the schooner;the beach-combers' junk, with its staring red eyes; Hoang, naked to thewaist, gleaming with sweat and whale-oil; the ambergris; the race tobeach the sinking schooner; the never-to-be-forgotten night when he andMoran had camped together on the beach; Hoang taken prisoner, and thehideous filing of his teeth; the beach-combers, silent and watchfulbehind their sand breastworks; the Chinaman he had killed twitching andhic-coughing at his feet; Moran turned Berserker, bursting down uponhim through a haze of smoke; Charlie dying in the hammock aboard theschooner, ordering his funeral with its "four-piecee horse"; Coronado;the incongruous scene in the ballroom; and, last of all, Josie Herrickin white duck and kid shoes, giving her hand to Moran in her boots andbelt, hatless as ever, her sleeves rolled up to above the elbows, herwhite, strong arm extended, her ruddy face, and pale, milk-blue eyesgravely observant, her heavy braids, yellow as ripening rye, hangingover her shoulder and breast.
A sudden explosion of cold wind, striking down blanket-wise andbewildering from out the west, made Wilbur look up quickly. The gray skyseemed scudding along close overhead. The bay, the narrow channel of theGolden Gate, the outside ocean, were all whitening with crests of waves.At his feet the huge green ground-swells thundered to the attack of thefort's granite foundations. Through the Gate, the bay seemed rushing outto the Pacific. A bewildered gull shot by, tacking and slanting againstthe gusts that would drive it out to sea. Evidently the storm was notfar off. Wilbur rose to his feet, and saw the "Bertha Millner," closein, unbridled and free as a runaway horse, headed directly for the opensea, and rushing on with all the impetus of wind and tide!
XIV. THE OCEAN IS CALLING FOR YOU
A little while after Wilbur had set off for the station, while Moranwas making the last entries in the log-book, seated at the table in thecabin, Jim appeared at the door.
"Well," she said, looking up.
"China boy him want go asho' plenty big, seeum flen up Chinatown in umcity."
"Shore leave, is it?" said Moran. "You deserted once before withouteven saying good-by; and my hand in the fire, you'll come back this timedotty with opium. Get away with you. We'll have men aboard here in a fewdays."
"Can go?" inquired Jim suavely.
"I said so. Report our arrival to your Six Companies."
Hoang rowed Jim and the coolies ashore, and then returned to theschooner with the dory and streamed her astern. As he passed the cabindoor on his way forward, Moran hailed him.
"I thought you went ashore?" she cried.
"Heap flaid," he answered. "Him other boy go up Chinatown; him tell SamYup; I tink Sam Yup alla same killee me. I no leaveum ship two, thleeday; bimeby I go Olegon. I stay topside ship. You wantum cook. I cookplenty fine; standum watch for you."
Indeed, ever since leaving Coronado the ex-beach-comber had made himselfvery useful about the schooner; had been, in fact, obsequiousnessitself, and seemed to be particularly desirous of gaining the good-willof the "Bertha's" officers. He understood pigeon English better thanJim, and spoke it even better than Charlie had done. He acted the partof interpreter between Wilbur and the hands; even turned to in thegalley upon occasion; and of his own accord offered to give the vessela coat of paint above the water-line. Moran turned back to her log, andHoang went forward. Standing on the forward deck, he looked after the"Bertha's" coolies until they disappeared behind a row of pine-trees onthe Presidio Reservation, going cityward. Wilbur was nowhere in sight.For a longtime Hoang studied the Lifeboat Station narrowly, while hemade a great show of coiling a length of rope. The station was just outof hailing distance. Nobody seemed stirring. The whole shore and backland thereabout was deserted; the edge of the city was four milesdistant. Hoang returned to the forecastle-hatch and went below, gropingunder his bunk in his ditty-box.
"Well, what is it?" exclaimed Moran a moment later, as the beach-comberentered the cabin, and shut the door behind him.
Hoang did not answer; but she did not need to repeat the question. In aninstant Moran knew very well what he had come for.
"God!" she exclaimed under her breath, springing to her feet. "Whydidn't we think of this!"
Hoang slipped his knife from the sleeve of his blouse. For an instantthe old imperiousness, the old savage pride and anger, leaped again inMoran's breast--then died away forever. She was no longer the same Moranof that first fight on board the schooner, when the beach-combers hadplundered her of her "loot." Only a few weeks ago, and she would havefought with Hoang without hesitation and without mercy; would havewrenched a leg from the table and brained him where he stood. But shehad learned since to know what it meant to be dependent; to relyfor protection upon some one who was stronger than she; to know herweakness; to know that she was at last a woman, and to be proud of it.
She did not fight; she had no thought of fighting. Instinctively shecried aloud, "Mate--mate!--Oh, mate, where are you? Help me!" andHoang's knife nailed the words within her throat.
The "loot" was in a brass-bound chest under one of the cabin's bunks,stowed in two gunny-bags. Hoang drew them out, knotted the two together,and, slinging them over his shoulder, regained the deck.
He looked carefully at the angry sky and swelling seas, noting thedirection of the wind and set of the tide; then went forward and castthe anchor-chains from the windlass in such a manner that the schoonermust inevitably wrench free with the first heavy strain. The dory wasstill tugging at the line astern. Hoang dropped the sacks in the boat,swung himself over the side, and rowed calmly toward the station'swharf. If any notion of putting to sea with the schooner had entered theobscure, perverted cunning of his mind, he had almost instantly rejectedit. Chinatown was his aim; once there and under the protection of hisTong, Hoang knew that he was safe. He knew the hiding-places that theSee Yup Association provided for its members--hiding places whose veryexistence was unknown to the police of the White Devil.
No one interrupted--no one even noticed--his passage to the station. Atbest, it was nothing more than a coolie carrying a couple of gunny-sacksacross his shoulder. Two hours later, Hoang was lost in San Francisco'sChinatown.
*****
At the sight of the schooner sweeping out to sea, Wilbur was for aninstant smitten rigid. What had happened? Where was Moran? Why was therenobody on board? A swift, sharp sense of some unnamed calamity leapedsuddenly at his throat. Then he was aware of a crattering of hoofs alongthe road that led to the fort. Hodgson threw himself from one of thehorses that were used in handling the surf-boat, and ran to him hatlessand panting.
"My God!" he shouted. "Look, your schooner, do you see her? She brokeaway after I'd started to tell you--to tell you--to tell you--your girlthere on board--It was horrible!"
"Is she all right?" cried Wilbur, at top voice, for the clamor of thegale was increasing every second.
"All right! No; they've killed her--somebody--the coolies, Ithink--knifed her! I went out to ask you people to come into the stationto have supper with me--"
"Killed her--killed her! Who? I don't believe you--"
&nb
sp; "Wait--to have supper with me, and I found her there on the cabin floor.She was still breathing. I carried her up on deck--there was nobody elseaboard. I carried her up and laid her on the deck--and she died there.Just now I came after you to tell you, and--"
"Good God Almighty, man! who killed her? Where is she? Oh--but of courseit isn't true! How did you know? Moran killed! Moran killed!"
"And the schooner broke away after I started!"
"Moran killed! But--but--she's not dead yet; we'll have to see--"
"She died on the deck; I brought her up and laid her on--"
"How do you know she's dead? Where is she? Come on, we'll go right backto her--to the station!"
"She's on board--out there!"
"Where--where is she? My God, man, tell me where she is!"
"Out there aboard the schooner. I brought her up on deck--I left her onthe schooner--on the deck--she was stabbed in the throat--and then cameafter you to tell you. Then the schooner broke away while I was coming;she's drifting out to sea now!"
"Where is she? Where is she?"
"Who--the girl--the schooner--which one? The girl is on theschooner--and the schooner--that's her, right there--she's drifting outto sea!"
Wilbur put both hands to his temples, closing his eyes.
"I'll go back!" exclaimed Hodgson. "We'll have the surf-boat out and getafter her; we'll bring the body back!"
"No, no!" cried Wilbur, "it's better--this way. Leave her, let hergo--she's going out to sea again!"
"But the schooner won't live two hours outside in this weather; she'llgo down!"
"It's better--that way--let her go. I want it so!"
"I can't stay!" cried the other again. "If the patrol should sig-stormcoming up, and I've got to be at my station."
Wilbur did not answer; he was watching the schooner.
"I can't stay!" cried the other again. "If the patrol should signal--Ican't stop here, I must be on duty. Come back, you can't do anything!"
"No!"
"I have got to go!" Hodgson ran back, swung himself on the horse, androde away at a furious gallop, inclining his head against the gusts.
And the schooner in a world of flying spray, white scud, and drivingspoondrift, her cordage humming, her forefoot churning, the flag at herpeak straining stiff in the gale, came up into the narrow passage of theGolden Gate, riding high upon the outgoing tide. On she came, swingingfrom crest to crest of the waves that kept her company and that ran tomeet the ocean, shouting and calling out beyond there under the low,scudding clouds.
Wilbur had climbed to the top of the old fort. Erect upon its graniteledge he stood, and watched and waited.
Not once did the "Bertha Millner" falter in her race. Like an unbittedhorse, all restraint shaken off, she ran free toward the ocean as to herpasture-land. She came nearer, nearer, rising and rolling with the seas,her bowsprit held due west, pointing like a finger out to sea, to thewest--out to the world of romance. And then at last, as the littlevessel drew opposite the old fort and passed not one hundred yards away,Wilbur, watching from the rampart, saw Moran lying upon the deck withoutstretched arms and calm, upturned face; lying upon the deck of thatlonely fleeing schooner as upon a bed of honor, still and calm, hergreat braids smooth upon her breast, her arms wide; alone with the sea;alone in death as she had been in life. She passed out of his life asshe had come into it--alone, upon a derelict ship, abandoned to the sea.She went out with the tide, out with the storms; out, out, out to thegreat gray Pacific that knew her and loved her, and that shouted andcalled for her, and thundered in the joy of her as she came to meet himlike a bride to meet a bridegroom.
"Good-by, Moran!" shouted Wilbur as she passed. "Good-by, good-by,Moran! You were not for me--not for me! The ocean is calling foryou, dear; don't you hear him? Don't you hear him? Good-by, good-by,good-by!"
The schooner swept by, shot like an arrow through the swirling currentsof the Golden Gate, and dipped and bowed and courtesied to the Pacificthat reached toward her his myriad curling fingers. They infolded her,held her close, and drew her swiftly, swiftly out to the great heavingbosom, tumultuous and beating in its mighty joy, its savage exultationof possession.
Wilbur stood watching. The little schooner lessened in thedistance--became a shadow in mist and flying spray--a shadow movingupon the face of the great waste of water. Fainter and fainter she grew,vanished, reappeared, was heaved up again--a mere speck upon the westernsky--a speck that dwindled and dwindled, then slowly melted away intothe gray of the horizon.
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