"But you kin talk all right, Martha, even if ye can't think," the captain retorted. "If ye'd think more ye'd talk less. If ye don't believe what me an' Eben have said, ye needn't. Yes, I'll go home with ye, fer I guess Flo'll understand, if you don't. Eben, you look after things here. Ye might as well keep the sail up as thar's no wind. If it comes on to blow, ye can lower it. I'll be on hand bright an' early in the mornin' so's to catch the tide. We kin drift, even if thar's no wind. Come on, Martha, let's go."

CHAPTER X

UNWELCOME VISITORS

After he had eaten his supper, Eben washed his few dishes and went out on deck. He sat down upon one of the blocks of granite and looked out over the water. It was a beautiful evening, with not a breath of wind astir. The river shimmered like a great mirror, its surface only ruffled when an occasional motor-boat hurried by, and the little steamer "Oconee," on her regular evening trip from the city, ploughed past and blew for a wharf a short distance beyond. A n.o.ble river is the St. John, enwrapped with the halo of romance and deeds of daring.

In days long ago it bore upon its bosom the light canoes of Indians as they journeyed to and fro for trading or warlike purposes. It felt the surge of larger vessels, both of England and France, during the stirring days when those two nations contended for the supremacy of a virgin land. Later it saw the slow-creeping boats of hardy pioneers, Loyalists, who came to make for themselves homes in the wilderness.

Its sh.o.r.es re-echoed to the shouts and songs of st.u.r.dy raftsmen in the days when acres of great logs were floated down to the sea. It had cradled upon its bosom fleets of boats, their white sails swelling to every wind that blew. These were gradually replaced by noisy steamers and tugs until only a few remained, of which the "Eb and Flo" was one.

To an imaginative mind the history of such a river would be sufficient to thrill the soul. But to the youth sitting there alone upon deck it meant nothing. In fact, he did not notice the beauty of the evening, nor the soft calmness which surrounded him. His mind was upon other things. He was thinking of the scene which had just been enacted on board the boat. He was in a rebellious mood, and now, as often before, quietness and deep thought were his two choice friends. He glanced occasionally toward the sh.o.r.e and up to the little cottage nestling among the trees. It was his home, and yet he had little affection for the place. It was there he had received food and shelter nearly all his life, but no sweet memories cl.u.s.tered around that little house. He had always been misunderstood, and he could not recall the time when he had not been scolded for everything he did. His mother was a woman who did her duty according to her light, and looked well after the bodily welfare of her family. But she overlooked the fact that people need more than bread and clothing, and that eternal scrubbing, washing and dusting do not make a real home. For the first time in his life he felt a deep pity for his father as he thought of the stern inquisition he was no doubt undergoing. And Flo, too, would have much to say, for her mother had moulded her according to her own design.

"Poor dad must be having a lively time of it now," he mused. "I wish he'd show a little more s.p.u.n.k, an' stand up fer his rights. Ma an'

Flo'd think more of him if he did. I don't believe all women act that way. I wonder----?"

His thoughts trailed off to the one girl who had ever stirred his soul.

How different she was from his own sister, he thought. He felt quite sure that she would not always be finding fault with everything he did.

His eyes glowed with a new light, and his heart beat faster as he remembered how interested she had been in his drawings. Then his feelings underwent a swift change. He was nothing to her. She never once thought of him after she met Hampton at the quarry. And he had struck her instead of his enemy! Would she ever learn the truth? he wondered.

A low rumble of thunder in the distance aroused him. He looked off toward the right. The sun had gone down, and big black clouds were ma.s.sing in the distance and rolling up from the west. The thunder was becoming more audible, while flashes of lightning were already splitting the air. He was well accustomed to such storms, which at times came up suddenly after a day of intense heat. They were generally accompanied by a heavy wind, and he remembered, how twice that very summer the "Eb and Flo" had dragged her anchor when hit by a furious gale. The first time she had, drifted out into the main channel, and they only had time to hoist sail and get her under way.

On the second occasion she had gone ash.o.r.e, and barely escaped a pile of rocks. Fortunately it had been low tide, so when the water rose, a pa.s.sing tug had pulled her off, undamaged. The anchor was too small, and his father had often spoken about getting a larger one. But this he had neglected to do, princ.i.p.ally because of the expense. Had there been good anchorage at Beach Cove, Eben would have felt more at ease.

But he knew that the bottom here was gravelly and would afford but a poor hold for the best of anchors. A louder rumble of thunder fell upon his ears.

"It'll soon be here," he muttered. "Guess I'd better lower the sail.

It won't do to have it up when the squall strikes."

He rose to his feet and was making his way across the pile of stones, when a motor-boat sputtered near, and slowed down close alongside.

There were two men on board, one steering, and the other at the engine.

"Is this the 'Eb and Flo'?" the former asked.

"Guess so," was the reply. "What d'ye want?"

At once the motor-boat was made fast to the deck-rail, and the two men climbed on board. Such liberty was not at all pleasing to Eben. His fists doubled and his eyes expressed anger. He recognised one of the visitors as Donaster, the man from whom Jess Randall had fled. He did not like the look upon his face nor his insolent manner. What right had these men to come on board the "Eb and Flo"? he asked himself. He felt in a fighting mood, but he realised that he could do little, for Donaster's companion was a big burly fellow, of the fighting type. All this pa.s.sed quickly through his mind as he stepped back and waited to see what the men would do. He did not have many seconds to wait, for Donaster, after peering keenly around as if expecting to see someone else, turned impatiently toward Eben.

"Have you a young woman on this boat?" he asked.

"S'pose I have, what bizness is it of yours?" Eben retorted, now more angry than ever.

"You'll know d---- quick whether it's my business or not if you don't answer my questions."

"I don't have to. This boat's me own, an' I kin have anyone I like on board. You clear out of this."

"Don't get insolent, you young cuss. Keep a civil tongue in your mouth or it won't be well for you. I want to know if you have a young woman on board?"

Eben did some quick, hard thinking just then. A spirit of natural shrewdness came to his a.s.sistance, and a sudden idea flashed into his mind. He could not fight these men single-handed, and win. He must get them at a special disadvantage, and there was only one way in which this could, be accomplished. He thought of the cabin.

"S'pose I have a woman on board, what of it?" he asked.

"We want her; that's all."

"Well, then, ye'll have to find her yerselves. Don't frighten her,"

and he motioned aft.

"What! In the cabin?" Donaster was much excited now.

Eben merely nodded, and stepped back.

"Come on, Bill," Donaster ordered. "I suspected she was here."

So intent were the two men upon their search that they paid no more heed to Eben, but hurried at once toward the cabin. Had they been the least suspicious and glanced back, they might have been more cautious.

They would have seen the young man they despised as of no account following, his face clouded with anger, and bearing in his hands a stout stick he had picked up from the deck. But sure of themselves, the visitors reached the cabin and descended. No sooner had their heads disappeared below the hatchway than Eben leaped forward, and stood menacingly on guard above. In his hands he clutched the stick and waited. He heard the men groping around below.

"It's as dark as h---- down here," Donaster was saying. "Hustle on deck, Bill, and fetch that fool down to give us a light."

The man at once obeyed, but no sooner had he placed his right foot upon the bottom step than a roar of warning greeted him from above. It was Eben's voice, and there was no doubting its meaning.

"Come up an' I'll brain ye," he roared.

Instinctively Bill drew back, while an exclamation of annoyance and fear escaped his lips. In the twilight of evening he could see the threatening lad above and the uplifted stick.

"Here, none of that, you fool," he cried. "What's your idea?"

"Come up an' I'll show ye. But I guess ye'll stay there all right.

Mebbe I'm not sich a fool as ye think. Ye know now who owns this boat, don't ye?"

The men were in a trap, and knew it. They were very angry and threatened and cursed in the most violent manner. But the more they raved, the more satisfied Eben became. It was rare sport, and he was enjoying it. But he was determined for all that, and if the men had ventured up the stairway he certainly would have knocked them down.

The peals of thunder were now becoming louder and more frequent. The intense calmness was ominous of the coming storm. Eben glanced uneasily toward the west and then forward. He knew that the sail should be down, but he did not dare to leave his post even for a minute. The men were whispering to each other. What they said he could not make out, but presently he heard the scratching of a match, and a light flared up. They were searching for a lamp, which they soon found and lighted. He knew that they could only escape from their prison by means of the door, for his father had built the upper part of the cabin exceptionally strong to keep out thieves when the boat was lying at her wharf in the harbour.

A vivid flash of lightning rent the air, followed almost immediately by a tremendous crash of thunder. From the cabin came a howl of fear, and looking down Eben could see two frightened faces staring up at him.

"For G.o.d's sake, let us up out of this hole!" Donaster pleaded. "We'll smother here."

"Jist stay where ye are," was the reply. "Ye got yerselves into this fix, an' ye'll have to make the best of it."

"But the lightning might strike the boat," Donaster argued.

"It would serve you divils right if it did. But, heavens, the storm's upon us!"

He slammed to the cabin door, and securely bolted it.

He next leaped across the deck-load and tore loose the halliard.

Instantly the sail came down with a rush, the gaff striking the boom with a bang. Across the hills came the storm. It could be heard a mile or more away, and in a few minutes the first drops of rain pattered upon the deck. Eben struggled to gather together the sail as it flopped in the first fitful gusts of wind and make it secure. But before this could be accomplished the storm was upon him. The thunder was terrific and the lightning incessant. The rain descended in torrents, and the wind whipping across the deck, caught the half furled sail and drove the boom with a thud to the full length of its sheet.

In a few minutes Eben was soaked to the skin as he leaned against the mast for support. But he thought little of himself. His only concern was for the "Eb and Flo" as she reeled beneath the storm and strained heavily at her anchor.