"My G.o.d! Aunt 'Cretia, she's _everything_ to me," he groaned, his reticence breaking down.

"Is she a good girl, Tunis?"

"As good as gold. On my honor, there was never a n.o.bler or better girl. I--I love her!" The words burst from him now in a great gush of emotion. These Lathams, when they did break up, often ran over.

"I can't tell you the hold she has on me. If I lose her through this or any other cause, I'm done for!

"She thinks she isn't good enough for me. She is afraid of this girl who claims her place. She fears that I am going to be looked down on if I have anything more to do with her. And I tell you, if she was not the girl I know her to be, I would still cling to her. I must have her. I tell you, I must!"

Tears came to his eyes. His voice, hoa.r.s.e and broken, carried to the woman's heart the knowledge that the one and overpowering pa.s.sion of the man's life was rampant within him. What or whoever the girl at the Ball homestead might be, Tunis Latham was bound to her by ties which could not be broken.

She did the thing most generous; quite in accordance with her unselfish disposition. She stepped nearer to her nephew and put her arms about his neck. She kissed him. She gave no further evidence of doubt or disapproval. Indeed, when he left her to go to his room, he was a.s.sured that, however the world might look upon him, Aunt Lucretia was his supporter.

The girl in the Ball house saw the glimmer of his lamp that night for a very few minutes. There was a day's work before him, and Tunis Latham, like other hard-working men, must have his sleep.

Sheila kept the night watches alone. She went to bed, but the lids of her eyes could not close. Sleep was as far from her as heaven itself. She went over the entire happenings of the previous afternoon and evening with care, giving to each incident its rightful importance, judging the weight of each word said, each look granted her. Did the b.a.l.l.s suspect her in the least? Had the story Ida May Bostwick told made any real impression upon their minds?

No! She finally told herself that thus far she was secure. Ida May must bring something besides a.s.sertion to influence the minds of the two old people. And if she had had doc.u.mentary proof in her possession yesterday, the new claimant would have shown it.

n.o.body carries about with him birth certificate or memoranda of identification and relationship. If Ida May had been warned of what she was to meet at the old house on Wreckers' Head, without doubt she would have tried to equip herself in some such way for the interview.

It might be very difficult for the girl to obtain any evidence that would a.s.sure the b.a.l.l.s of her actual relationship to them. Sheila had foreseen this possibility from the first. She was still quite determined to hold on, to make the other girl do all the talking and all the proving. She herself would rest upon the foundation of her establishment in the place Ida May Bostwick claimed.

The latter certainly could not know Sheila's true history. Sheila was as much a stranger to Ida May as she had been to the b.a.l.l.s when Tunis had brought her to Wreckers' Head.

And then, suddenly, a thought seared through the girl's mind.

Something that Ida May Bostwick had said just before Tunis hurried her out of the house!

"I believe I've seen her before. Somehow, she looks familiar."

These two sentences, spoken in Ida May's sneering way, had made little impression on the excited Sheila at the time they were spoken. But now they made the girl's heart beat wildly.

Suppose it were true! Suppose Ida May should really remember who Sheila was? It was not impossible that the girl from the lace counter of Hoskin & Marl's knew of Sheila's disgrace.

Sleep was not within her reach. The long hours of the night dragged past. Dimly dawn crept along the dark line of the horizon, circling all her world as far as Sheila could see it from her bed. But it was still dark below her north window when she caught the sound of a familiar step, the crunch of gravel under Tunis' boot.

She lay shaking for a moment, holding her breath. She heard the tiny pebbles rattle upon the window sill. For the first time she had not been downstairs to greet Tunis on his way to the port. Could she let him go now without a word?

But she must! She must be firm.

Nevertheless, she slipped softly out of bed. The pebbles rattled again. She caught up a dark veil from her bureau and wrapped it about her face. She crept to the north window. The veil would mask her face so that he could not distinguish it in the shadow.

But she could look down upon him. She saw him standing there so firmly--so determinedly. His was no nature to give over easily anything he had set his heart on. All the more reason why Sheila should not appear to weaken.

She crouched there breathlessly as he tossed up more pebbles. Then she heard him sigh. Then he turned slowly away, and his feet dragged off along the path, and he went out of sight.

The girl crept back into bed. She hid her face in the pillow and dry sobs racked her frame. This was the hardest of all the hard things she had to do. She had wounded Tunis to the heart!

CHAPTER XXIV

EUNEZ PARETA

Tunis Latham went down the track toward the port as the dull dawn glimmered behind him in a frame of mind so dismal and despairing that more than Sheila Macklin would have pitied the captain of the _Seamew_. Against the tide of emotions which now surged in his heart he scarcely had the energy to battle.

Never had he felt less like approaching his usual tasks as commander and owner of the schooner and facing the trials he knew would meet him upon this coming trip to Boston. Freight was waiting upon Luiz Wharf, and he would be able to pick up the remainder of his cargo at Hollis, which, with the wind as it was now, he could reach that afternoon by four o'clock. Given good luck, he would warp into the T-wharf next day before nightfall.

The uncertain point which troubled him most was the matter of the crew of the _Seamew_. The Portygees remaining with him--even Johnny Lark, the cook--had been in a most unhappy temper all the way back from Boston on the last trip. Tunis could depend upon Mate Chapin, Boatswain Newbegin, and 'Rion Latham himself to stick by the schooner. For, in spite of his quarreling and long tongue about a hoodoo, Tunis thought that his cousin was a man above any real fear of the very superst.i.tions he talked about.

But four men could not safely work the schooner to Boston, nor in season to keep his contract with the consignees of freight which the _Seamew_ carried. Troubled as he had been at Boston, and delayed, Tunis wished now that he had remained there even longer while he made search for and engaged a proper crew for the schooner. He had better, perhaps, have paid the fare of the Portygees back to Big Wreck Cove and so saved quarreling with them.

When he had been about to leave the schooner the afternoon before, the foolish fellows had sent a spokesman to him asking if he was sure the _Seamew_ was not the old _Marlin B._, the Salem fishing craft which had been acclaimed "the murder ship" from the Banks to the Cape by all coasting seamen several years before. To answer this question rasped the pride of the owner of the _Seamew_. For a seaman to ask a question of one of the officers--a question of such a nature--was flaunting authority in any case.

Although Captain Latham considered the question ridiculous and utterly unworthy of a serious answer, he had replied to it.

He had told the sailor that to the best of his knowledge and belief the old _Marlin B._ was several thousand miles away from the Cape at that time, and that the _Seamew_ was herself and no other. In any case, he had said he had no personal fear of sailing in the schooner as long as he could keep a decent crew of seamen aboard her, but that he would stand for no more foolishness from his present crew.

Tunis had spoken quite boldly. But, to tell the truth, he did not know where or how he was to sign another crew and a cook if the Portygees deserted the schooner. Not at Big Wreck Cove. He had heard too many whispers about the curse upon his schooner from people of all cla.s.ses in the port. Even Joshua Jones, who was supposed to be a pretty hard-headed merchant, had been influenced by the story 'Rion Latham had first told about the _Seamew_. He and his father had hesitated to give Tunis an order for another lot of freight now waiting on the dock at Boston. They wanted to be sure that the schooner was not going to sail from the latter port undermanned.

Whether or not the Joneses believed in the hoodoo, they did know that if the _Seamew_ sailed without a proper crew their insurance on the freight would be invalid.

So the farther Tunis walked down toward the wharves, the more these thoughts a.s.sailed and overcame his mind, to the exclusion even of the tragic happenings back there on the Head the night before. He could not consider Ida May Bostwick--not even Sheila--now. The schooner, with her affairs, was a harsh mistress. His all was invested in the _Seamew_, and business had not been so good thus far that he could withdraw with a profit. Far from that! There were financial reefs and shoals on either hand, and that fact the young skipper knew right well.

As he drew near to Portygee Town, he glanced toward the open door of Pareta's cottage and saw the girl, Eunez, seated upon the step. She did not come out to meet him, as had been her wont, but she hailed him as he approached--though in a sharper tone than usual.

"So Captain Tunis Latham has still another girl? He is a lion with the ladies, it is plain to be seen. Ah!"

"You don't mind, do you, Eunez?" replied the young man, trying to a.s.sume his usual careless manner of speech. "You have the reputation of being pretty popular with the fellows yourself."

"Ah!" she said again, tossing her head. "Who is this new girl I see you walk with last evening, Tunis?"

"She is a stranger in Big Wreck Cove," was his noncommittal reply.

"So I see. They come and go for you, Tunis Latham. You are the fickle man, eh?"

"Tut, tut, Eunez!" he laughed. "Those who live in gla.s.s houses should not throw stones. How about yourself? Didn't I see you going to church with Johnny Lark last Sunday? And then, in the afternoon, you had another cavalier along the beaches. Oh, I saw you!"

The color flashed into her dark cheek, and her black eyes reflected some unexplained anger. Beside her, leaning against the house wall, was the handle end of a broken oar. Tunis chanced to mark that there was a streak of dull blue paint on it.

"You have sharp eyes. Tunis Latham," hissed the girl. "Not all of the Lathams are too proud to walk with Eunez Pareta--or too proud to think of her. But _you_--bah!"

She got up suddenly, turned her back upon him, and entered the cottage. Tunis walked on, just a little puzzled.

Horry Newbegin sat on the rail of the schooner smoking, and evidently looking anxiously for the appearance of the skipper. There was no smoke rising from the galley chimney.

"What's the matter with cooky?" demanded Tunis briskly.