CHAPTER XXV
THE BANKER AT THE HELM
Foot by foot down the storm-lashed, wind-swept channel the victoriouscannery fleet doggedly fought its way from the Diablo coast and headedto sea.
"We've got to lay in at San Anselmo," Dickie Lang shouted to Gregory asshe guided the _Richard_ skilfully through the buffeting waves. "Some ofthe boats are pretty badly stove up. They're riding too low to try tomake the mainland. We'd have to buck the storm all the way over. Bestrun before it as long as we can. Then we can gain the lea of the otherisland and head in at Cavalan and leave some of the boats there. Mayhave to run a few of them on the beach. We ought to make the littleharbor on the south shore of San Anselmo in a couple of hours."
Gregory agreed with some reluctance. When it came to seamanship he wasperfectly willing to leave the management of his craft to Dickie Lang.The girl was familiar with the coast of the two islands and had fullydemonstrated her ability to handle the _Richard_ in a storm. Still theidea of running from Diablo rankled in his heart. It looked likequitting.
The girl's next words, however, made him feel a little better.
"There would be no use lying in at Northwest Harbor at Diablo," she wassaying. "The anchorage is too small and Mascola's boats will overcrowdit. If you tried to beach anything there, you'd wreck it. At Cavalan wecan check things up, transfer the fish if we have to and get them rightout. We've beaten Mascola, hands down, so why should we care?"
It was well toward morning before the last of the cannery fleetstaggered into the little harbor of Cavalan. Then came the firstopportunity to reckon the cost of Mascola's defeat at Diablo.
Gregory's first thought was for the personnel of his fleet. In the fightwith the alien fishermen several of his men had been injured, but asnear as could be ascertained, none fatally. A number of men had beenslashed by knives, but the injuries for the most part were only fleshwounds. There were many aching heads and bruised bodies. Two sailors anda fisherman had been grazed by bullets. One man's arm had been broken.
To a man the various crews made light of their injuries and proudlymaintained that they had left their mark on many a dark-skinned memberof Mascola's aliens.
Bronson had partly recovered and was anxiously inquiring concerning thebehavior of the speed-craft in the storm.
While Gregory directed the transferring of the injured men to thebetter equipped launches, Dickie checked up the material damageinflicted upon the tonnage.
On the _Curlew_ Gregory encountered Hawkins. The newspaper man wasjubilant. The victory over the aliens was just what he needed. He hadanticipated the outcome and had already sent out a full account of thestruggle with the aliens over the radio. The people of Port Angeleswould be reading it in a couple of hours.
As Hawkins assisted Gregory in caring for the needs of the men, thereporter hinted that he was on the trail of a bigger story which wouldmake all his former journalistic efforts pale into insignificance. Butwhen questioned concerning the specific nature of his scoop, Hawkinsbecame extremely reticent.
Dickie Lang's report upon the condition of the fishing-boats addedmaterially to the cost of the victory. Four of the craft had been jammedin the melee and were leaking badly. How they ever made port at all wasa thing she could not understand. Three of the other vessels hadsustained bent shafts and broken propeller blades. All the fleet weremore or less battle-scarred but their defects could be remedied in thewater. She had set the men to work already. There was a machine shop atAnacapa on the opposite side of the island and a marine railway largeenough to take on the disabled craft. When the blow subsided, they couldput in there for temporary repairs.
The girl's eyes glowed with happiness as she totaled the catch of thefishermen. Every boat was laden almost to its full capacity. With astorm coming on and in the face of a probable shortage of fish, thesuccess of the night's work would reach a substantial figure.
"It's worth more than you know," put in Hawkins. "Wait until my yarngets into print and I'll show you." He smiled broadly and put out hishand. "Then I want my rake-off, Cap. Gregory," he concluded.
"I won't forget you, Bill," Gregory was quick to answer. "Nor any oneelse. I knew the boys would stand by to a finish. They sure came acrossto-night."
He turned quickly to Dickie Lang. "When can we start out with the fish?"he asked.
"Figuring to go at daybreak," the girl answered. "Better send Jack amessage right away so he can be ready for them. They'll have to buck theblow so it will be afternoon by the time they get over."
She looked out across the faintly graying waters where brighteninglights began to appear from the shadowy hulls of the fishing-boats. Thenshe inhaled the air hungrily.
"Look," she exclaimed. "The boys are getting breakfast. Let's go over tothe _Snipe_ and tie in with them. They've got a man there from theregular navy who can surely cook."
Gregory and Hawkins welcomed the suggestion and a moment later they werespeeding away to answer to the first call for breakfast.
In the lea of San Anselmo, sheltered from the storm in the land-lockedlittle harbor of Cavalan, the American fleet rested from its labors. Thesailors gathered on the decks and greeted the new day over plates piledhigh with crisp slices of bacon and fried eggs. The night had been long,fraught with danger and fatiguing toil; but work and worry had enduredonly for the night and joy came with the morning.
* * * * *
Silvanus Rock was nervous and ill-tempered. Consuming his third cup ofstrong black coffee, he rose from the breakfast table and walked to theFrench windows and glared out at the curling waves as they flungthemselves upon the beach.
His devoted spouse gazed after him with a sigh. "Something is preying onfather's mind," she whispered to De Lancy, the only son and heir to theRock fortune. "He didn't sleep a wink last night."
De Lancy scowled. "That doesn't give him any license to take it out onme," he growled, as he pushed back his chair and lit a cigarette. "WhenI tried to interest him in that new racing car, he landed on me all in aheap and----"
His words were interrupted by the entrance of the maid.
"Some one to see Mr. Rock," she announced.
Rock whirled and hurried toward her. Then he caught a glimpse of theroughly garbed man who was standing by the desk in his den. Peters hadarrived at last. The anxious lines deepened on Silvanus Rock's foreheadand he made haste to join his visitor.
Mrs. Rock pursed her lips as she noticed the stranger. "I can notunderstand why your father persists in having such disreputable-lookingmen visit him in his home," she confided to her son.
De Lancy sluffed the cigarette ashes into his coffee cup, beforereplying. "Well, whoever the 'low-brow' is, here's hoping he'll put theold man in a better humor."
In his wish De Lancy was not disappointed. For a short time the visitorremained closeted with Rock in the capitalist's den. Then Rock escortedhis guest to the door and De Lancy noticed that the old man had openedup some of his best cigars. It was a good sign.
Silvanus Rock entered the sun-room, all smiles.
"I believe I'll try some of those waffles, mother, if they are stillhandy," he exclaimed. "My headache's passed off and I'm feeling quitemyself again." He beamed on his son. "And now, De Lancy, you weretelling me about that new car. It seems to me like a pretty stiff pricebut I guess you might as well go ahead and order it."
When the bank president reached his office some time later after a visitto the Golden Rule Fish Cannery, he greeted his employees with effusivegood-humor. Leaving orders that he was not to be disturbed by any oneexcept Mr. Peters, he passed into his private office, dropped heavilyinto a chair and began to figure. His pudgy fingers trembled about thepen as he scratched on the pad before him. Then he tore the papercontaining his calculations into little bits, tossed them into thewaste-basket and smiled benignly. His latest business venture hadsucceeded far beyond his fondest expectations.
A tap came on his door and Mr. Peters again made his appearance.
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p; Rock surveyed him anxiously. "No mistake I hope, Peters, in the goodnews," he quavered. "Everything's all right I trust."
Peters nodded and drew up a chair close to Rock's side. "This one'sabout the fishing-boats," he said in a low voice. "They got into a scrapwith the American boats off Northwest Harbor. Bandrist says thatGregory's fleet won out. Mascola's lay in at the harbor. The _Florence_burned up and a lot of his other boats are pretty well shot. He couldn'tstop the other fellows at all and they loaded up."
Rock frowned at the news.
"Well, well," he ejaculated. "That is bad. Though not of course as badas it might be. No answer to that one, Peters."
A few moments later when the financier was again alone in his office,the cashier entered. "The credit man from the Canners' Supply Company ishere," he announced. "He's asking for information about the Legonia FishCannery. Thought I'd better refer him to you."
Rock's thick lips closed grimly. "Show him in," he ordered, and bitsavagely at his cigar.
Mr. Booker made his appearance at once. "We have a little account withthe Legonia Fish Cannery," he began. "As it is some time past due wewere beginning to get a little anxious. A word from you will put usstraight."
"What's the amount of your claim?"
"Twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars."
The hopeful expression which had leaped to Rock's face gave place to oneof gloom. Then he asked:
"What is the nature of your claim?"
"Machinery and the labor of installing," supplied Booker.
A gleam of hope entered Rock's beady eyes. "Between you and me, Mr.Booker," he said. "The Legonia Fish Cannery is pretty much involved atthe present time. Their organization is one which might cause you somedifficulty in securing the amount of your claim. If you care to assignit to me for collection I think I can handle the matter satisfactorily."
Booker did not notice the suppressed eagerness of the bank president'stone. He was new at the job, replacing the regular credit man who wasaway on his vacation. Perhaps it would be well to accept Mr. Rock'soffer.
"What fee would you charge for your services?" he inquired warily.
Rock spread out his fat hands with a depreciatory gesture.
"Just between friends, Mr. Booker," he said warmly. "Your firm is toowell-known by me to make even a nominal charge for so trifling a favor.Whatever I am able to do for you in this regard, is yours for theasking." Seeing that the credit man was wavering, Rock continued: "I amso sure that I can adjust the claim satisfactorily that if you desire Iwill give you my own personal check for the amount right away. Then youcan forget the entire matter. Mr. Gregory is a personal friend of mineand though, as I say, his affairs are somewhat involved, I know that hewill attend to the matter at once if approached in the right way."
Booker hesitated.
"I'd better call on Mr. Gregory first," he said.
"That will be a hard matter," Rock interrupted. "Unless you care to goto the expense of making a trip to Diablo Island. Mr. Gregory leftyesterday for a protracted stay in the deep-sea fishing grounds."
Booker considered. His firm was very desirous of having him return withthe cash which was sore needed at the present time. Collecting the claimwould be quite a feather in his cap. Rock's statements concerning theFish Cannery, he noticed, were somewhat contradictory. But that was upto Rock. An account like this, the chances were, would not be worth muchanyway. He could explain the whole matter to Dunham when he got back.
"All right, Mr. Rock," he said at length. "If you want to buy the claimoutright, you can have it. I won't assign."
Rock reached for his check-book. A few moments later saw the dealclosed. When Booker had left, Rock turned to the telephone. When he wasin communication with the local judge, he said:
"I'd like to see you as soon as possible, Tom.--Yes, it'simportant.--All right. I'll be right down."
* * * * *
Somewhat in advance of Silvanus Rock's breakfast hour, Mr. Dupontentered the White Front Restaurant at Port Angeles and made his waytoward his accustomed table in the sunlit alcove. His favorite waitresspulled out his chair and handed him his morning paper with a smile.
"I have a special for you this morning," she announced, "which will makeyour mouth water."
Mr. Dupont smacked his lips with boyish enthusiasm. "What is it?" heinquired.
"Corn-fed mackerel from the new Service Market which opened yesterday."
Mr. Dupont raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and the girl explained:
"A lot of service men have started a fish stall in a corner of the oldCalifornia Market around the block from here. They just put in a fewyesterday but from the way they sold out, I'd say they'd need the wholebuilding before long. Our manager got around just in time to pick up thelast of yesterday's catch. I saved one of them for you."
While the girl attended to his order, the resident manager of Winfield &Camby turned his attention to his paper. When the waitress returned withthe crisply browned fish, she was obliged to speak twice before she wasable to gain Mr. Dupont's attention.
Hovering about his chair, she watched her patron nibble at thecarefully-prepared delicacy with his eyes fixed intently upon hisnewspaper. The dimples disappeared quickly from the girl's face as shenoted that the mackerel were growing cold. Then she turned from thetable with a sigh. Men did not care what they ate as long as they hadtheir paper.
Mr. Dupont finished his perusal of the news and shoved back his chair,leaving the special scarcely tasted.
"That was fine," he ejaculated. "Wish I had time to finish it. But Ihave a number of things to 'tend to before going to the office. By theway, where did you say that new market was located?"
He rose as he spoke and as the waitress again gave him the location ofthe building he sought, he pressed a substantial tip into her hand andhurried to the street. At the entrance to the California Market, hemingled with the throng and elbowed his way through the crowd whichpacked a corner of the big building. Then he adjusted his nose-glassesand peered over their heads.
Behind a rudely constructed counter of rough boards three smiling youngmen were endeavoring to satisfy the demands made upon them for therapidly disappearing contents of a number of fish-boxes behind thecounter. All about them were hastily scrawled signs which the publicread with interest.
WE HAVE DECLARED WAR ON THE HIGH COST OF LIVING.--FRESH FISH AT FIFTY PER CENT. OFF.--WE ARE DEALING DIRECT WITH THE PEOPLE.--SHOOT SQUARE WITH US AND WE WILL SHOOT SQUARE WITH YOU.
While Mr. Dupont read, another sign made its appearance.
"SOLD OUT. COME AGAIN."
Winfield & Camby's office force were surprised to find the manager onthe job when they reached the salesrooms.
"Send me Mr. Black."
Mr. Dupont's orders were crisp and the publicity man hurried to obey hisbidding.
"Bring me those clippings on that Legonia Fish Cannery stuff, Black.Also the ads in to-day's papers. Have you read that story of the mix-upbetween the Americans and the alien fishermen at Diablo Island?"
Black admitted he had not.
"Get _The Times_ and read it," snapped the manager. "Come alive, Black,and as soon as Dalton comes in, tell him I want to see him right away."
* * * * *
It was high noon at Cavalan when the _Pelican_ reentered the harborafter cruising in the open sea to pick up any words that might come fromMcCoy over the radio. Gregory watched the progress of the _Pelican_from the deck of the Albatross.
"Looks as if they'd picked up something at last," he observed. "Hopeit's from the fleet, saying they arrived at the cannery all right."
"They've hardly had time to make it yet," objected Dickie Lang. "Iwouldn't expect to hear from them at Legonia for at least two hours."
The wireless operator appeared on deck as the _Pelican_ drew abreast ofthe _Albatross_. "Message for Mr. Gregory," he shouted.
Gregory took the paper and glanced eagerl
y at the message. It was fromMcCoy and it read:
Rock here with attachment papers to tie us up pending payment of claim bought by him from Canners' Supply Company. We have until four o'clock to answer. Wire what to do.
Gregory glanced at his watch as he handed the message to Dickie Lang.Jumping to the deck of the _Pelican_ he found Tom Howard.
"Tom," he said, "I want you to put to sea at once. Travel a straightcourse for Legonia and keep the radio going all the time. We'll bealongside in the _Richard_. Give us the answer you get over the radio bymegaphone. Perhaps then it won't be necessary for us to go all the wayover. But if it should be, we've got to get there before four o'clock."
Turning to the radio man, he dictated a message to Farnsworth settingforth the situation and instructing the attorney to take whatever stepswere advisable to stay the attachment. The message was to be forwardedto Farnsworth from the cannery. It would give the lawyer time to act ifhe got busy at once.
Returning to the _Albatross_, Gregory went over his plans with DickieLang.
"I'm going, too," the girl announced. "You are all in. It will be no fundriving the _Richard_ to-day. If you do have to go across, you haven'tmuch chance of making it on time in weather like this. Especially if wehave to lag along with the _Pelican_."
"I know it," Gregory answered. "But I'm not figuring we'll have to govery far. But if we do have to go all the way we've got to be at Legoniabefore four o'clock. We've beaten Mascola but we'll lose all we'vegained if we don't beat Rock."
Hawkins sensed that something important was taking place and straightwaydetermined to accompany the party. A few minutes later the _Richard_ andthe _Pelican_ rounded the tip of San Anselmo and headed into the storm.Then Hawkins' professional curiosity got the better of him.
"What's the big idea?" he asked.
Gregory explained, concluding optimistically: "I'm not worrying much.Farnsworth can fix things up all right. Then we'll go back to Cavalan."
"If he doesn't you can put up a bond for double the amount of theclaim," Hawkins advised. "That will stay the attachment until you canraise the cash. You'd have to get it in person though--and before fouro'clock."
He looked at his watch.
"You'll have to go some to do that," he said. "If you could cut loosefrom the _Pelican_ it would be a cinch, but of course you've got to waituntil you get an answer to your message."
For some time the two boats fought their way through the rising waves.Then the fishing-boat signaled the _Richard_ to draw closer. Gregorylistened intently for the words of the man with the megaphone as heappeared on the _Pelican's_ deck. The operator's message came faintly tothem above the roar of the wind.
Mr. Farnsworth left his office at noon to-day on motor trip to country. Not expected to return until Monday. Little hope of reaching him to-night but will keep trying.
McCoy.
Hawkins swore softly at the intelligence. It was one-thirty already. Notmuch chance of reaching Legonia in time to accomplish much to-day.
"Tell McCoy I'll be at the cannery before four o'clock."
Dickie flashed a glance at the clock on the _Richard's_ dash atGregory's words. Every minute was going to count. It was up to thespeed-boat to show what she could do. Opening the cut-out, the girlbegan to get the speed-craft under way. With a roar which drowned outthe wind, the _Richard_ mounted to the white-capped swells and raced forthe mainland. There was only one chance in a hundred of making it ontime. She set her lips grimly and gripped the wheel. If it was only onein a thousand, she'd take it--for Kenneth Gregory.
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