He had a strong suspicion that he was not the head of the family; that Mrs. Taylor had actually usurped his powers and prerogatives; that she dared to think and act for herself and her son without much, if any, regard to him. He felt belittled and degraded; not because he was a drunkard, and neglected to provide for his family, but because he was not in fact, as he was in name, the head of the house. He was thirsty and hankering for rum, and this condition made him ugly. He had not a cent in his pocket, and his credit at the saloon was not good even for a single dram. But he went to the saloon, for it was possible that some one might treat him. The first person he saw when he entered was Captain c.h.i.n.ks.

Almost everybody seemed to be troubled that night, and Captain c.h.i.n.ks was among the number. Things did not work to suit him; and every time he viewed himself in the gla.s.s he saw that black eye which Bobtail had given him, and every time he touched that eye there was a soreness there to remind him of that affair in the cabin of the Skylark. He did not love Little Bobtail, and the event of the day that had set everybody to talking about and praising the boy made him feel ten times worse. It would be hard to convict him of stealing the letter while almost everybody was making a lion of him.

"Ah, Zeke!" exclaimed Captain c.h.i.n.ks, as the tippler entered the saloon.

"How d'y do, cap'n?" replied the nominal head of the family.

"I'm glad to see you, Zeke. I've been wanting to see you. Won't you take something?"

"Thank ye; I don't care if I do take a little o' sunthin'. I don't feel jest right to-night," answered Ezekiel, placing his hand upon his diaphragm, to intimate that this was the seat of his ailing.

"We will go into this little room, if you like," added Captain c.h.i.n.ks, as he led the way into a small apartment, where a party could dine or sup in privacy. "Give us a bottle of _that_ brandy," he continued, addressing the keeper of the saloon.

Ezekiel smiled, for a private room indicated a free-and-easy time. A bottle of brandy promised a succession of drams, enough to warm up that disagreeable coldness at the diaphragm, and to lift his brain up to the pitch of a tippler's highest enjoyment. Then "_that_ brandy" suggested a liquor of choice quality, something which his companion had tested, and knew to be good. Ezekiel was happy, and for the moment he forgot that he was not the actual head of the family; that his wife had kept money "hid away from him;" and that her son had destroyed his property. But he wondered what Captain c.h.i.n.ks could want of him, for that worthy did not generally treat him with much consideration, whereas now he was polite, generous, and ready to invest to the extent of a whole bottle of _that_ brandy, which must be very choice, and therefore expensive.

The bottle came, and the door of the little room was closed. Captain c.h.i.n.ks seated himself on one side of the table, on which the bottle and gla.s.ses were placed, and invited Ezekiel to occupy a chair on the other side. The captain pushed the brandy and a gla.s.s towards his guest, who needed no persuasion to induce him to partake of the choice liquor. He poured out about half a tumbler of the stuff, but he kept his hand over the gla.s.s,--he was a wily toper,--so that his host should not see how much he took. He added a very little water to the fiery fluid, and then held the gla.s.s in his trembling hand till the captain was ready to join him. The man with a doubtful reputation did not cover his gla.s.s with his hand; if he had thought it necessary, he would have done it in order to conceal how small, rather than how large, a dram he took. He only covered the bottom of the tumbler, and then deluged the liquor with water. Captain c.h.i.n.ks was a cunning man, and he knew that brandy unfits a man for business, impairs his judgment, and blunts his perception. He took a small dram.

"Here's to you," said Ezekiel.

"Thank you; my respects," added Captain c.h.i.n.ks.

The toper drained his gla.s.s. The liquor was strong, and the tears drowned his eyes as he swallowed the fiery fluid.

"That's good brandy!" exclaimed he, as soon as he could speak.

"First chop," replied Captain c.h.i.n.ks. "You couldn't buy that brandy in Portland for three dollars a bottle. In my opinion that article never paid tribute to Uncle Sam."

"'Tain't no wus for that," said Ezekiel, with a cheerful grin.

"That's so."

"'Tain't right to charge no duties on liquors. That's the reason we git so much pizen stuff. You can hardly git a drop of good brandy for sickness now, without you pay four or five dollars a bottle for it; and I can't afford to pay no such prices," added Ezekiel, deeply moved at this terrible grievance.

"Well, I reckon there's more of it comes in from the provinces without paying any duties than most people think, though I don't _know_ anything about it myself."

Even Ezekiel Taylor had his doubts on this point, though he was not disposed, under the present agreeable circ.u.mstances, to indulge in any controversy on the point.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"The more they bring in, the better," said he, encouragingly.

"By the way, Zeke, that boy of yours is in luck to-day," continued Captain c.h.i.n.ks, toying with his gla.s.s.

"He ain't no boy o' mine," said the toper, with no little indignation in his tones. "He's my wife's boy."

"Well, it's all the same. He's a smart boy."

"He's smart enough; but he ain't the right sort of a boy. He's rather too smart."

"That was a bad sc.r.a.pe he got into about that letter; but I can't believe he opened it, and took the money out," added Captain c.h.i.n.ks, still toying with the gla.s.s, and apparently without the least interest in the conversation in which he was engaged.

"He ain't none too good to do sech a thing," muttered Ezekiel, as he recalled the wickedness of the boy in destroying "his property."

"I thought he was a nice boy, went to Sunday school, and belonged to the Band of Hope," continued the captain, who, however, judging from his manner, did not care whether the boy was a saint or a demon.

"I don't care what he b'longs to, nor how many Sunday schools he goes to: he stole sunthin' from me, and I cal'late he'd steal from other folks, if he would from me."

"That's good logic, Zeke; but you mustn't be hard on the boy."

"I ain't hard on him."

"I reckon that folks generally think more of him than you seem to. By the way, did he say anything to you about that boat he picked up over on the other sh.o.r.e?"

"No; he never said nothin' to me about it."

"Didn't he?"

"No; he never says nothin' to me about anything."

"That's a fine boat," added Captain c.h.i.n.ks, who had taken a lead pencil from his pocket, and was tapping the gla.s.s with it, as if to ascertain the quality of the material of which it was composed.

"So I've hearn tell; but I hain't seen her only from the sh.o.r.e."

"It's strange no one comes after her," suggested the captain. "Zeke, there's a mystery about that boat."

"Sho!"

"Of course I don't know anything about it; but I reckon the owner would have been after her, if there hadn't been some reason for keeping in the dark."

"You don't say so!"

"Well, you see I only guess at it. I don't know no more about it than you do; perhaps not so much."

"I don't know nothin' at all about it," protested Ezekiel.

Captain c.h.i.n.ks tapped the gla.s.s, and did not seem to care about anything in particular, least of all about that boat, which was the subject of the conversation.

"What do you mean by a mystery, cap'n? I hain't hearn nothin' of no mystery afore."

"I had some talk with your boy about the boat and her cargo."

"What cargo? I hain't hearn nothin' o' no cargo."

"Won't you take another nip of this brandy, Zeke?" added Captain c.h.i.n.ks, pushing the bottle towards him.

"Don't care if I do. That's good brandy."

"But it isn't any better than a lot which was aboard that boat when your boy picked her up."