The Silver Horde - Part 39
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Part 39

Boyd did not see him again that day, nor at the hotel during the evening, but on the following morning, true to his word, the big fellow walked into the warehouse followed by a score or more of fishermen. At first sight there was nothing imposing about these men: they were rough-garbed and unkempt, in the main; but upon closer observation Boyd noticed that they were thick-chested and broad-shouldered, and walked with the swinging gait that comes from heaving decks. While the majority of them were neither distinctly American nor markedly foreign in appearance, being rather of that composite caste that peoples the outer reaches of the far West, they were all deeply browned by sun and weather, and spoke the universal idiom of the sea. There were men here from Finland and Florida, Portugal and Maine, fused into one nondescript type by the melting-pot of the frontier.

Some wore the northern mackinaw in spite of the balmy April morning, others were dressed like ranch hands on circus day, and a few with the ornateness of b.u.t.te miners on parade.

Certain ones displayed fresh contusions on cheek and jaw, or peered forth from lately blackened eyes, and these, Boyd noticed, invariably fawned upon Big George or treated him with elephantine playfulness, winking swollen lids at him in a mysterious understanding which puzzled the young man, until he saw that Balt himself bore similar signs of strife. The big man's lips were cut, while back of one ear a knot had sprung up over night like a fungus.

They fell to work quickly, stripping themselves to their undershirts; they manned the hoists, seized trucks and bale-hooks, and began their tasks with a thoroughly non-union energy. Some of them were still so drunk that they staggered, their awkwardness affording huge sport to their companions, yet even in their intoxication they were surprisingly capable.

There was a great deal of laughter and disorder on every hand, and all made frequent trips to the water-taps, returning adrip to the waist, their hair and beards bejewelled with drops. Boyd saw one, a well-dressed fellow in a checked suit, remove his clothes and hang them carefully upon a nail, then painfully unlace his patent-leather shoes, after which, regardless of the litter under foot and the splinters in the floor, he tramped about in bare feet and red underwear. Without exception, they seemed possessed by the spirit of boys at play. Having seen them well under way and the winches working, George sought out Boyd and proudly inquired:

"What do you think of them, eh?"

"They are splendid. But where are the others?"

"Well, there are two or three that won't be able to get around at all." He meditatively stroked the knuckles of his right hand, which were badly bruised. "But the balance will be here to-morrow. These are just the mildest-mannered ones--the family men, you might say. The others will show up gradual. You see, if there had been any fighting going on here, I'd have got most of them right off the bat, but there wasn't any inducement to offer except hard work, so they wasn't quite so anxious to commence."

"Humph! There ought to be enough excitement before long to satisfy any one," said Boyd, with a trace of worry in his voice.

"As sure as you're a foot high!" exclaimed George, hopefully. "It's the only way we'll get that ship loaded on time. All we need is a riot or two."

A man pa.s.sed them trundling a heavy truck, but seeing Big George, he paused, wiped the sweat from his face, then grinned and winked fraternally.

"Hey! If this work is too heavy for you, why don't you quit?" growled Balt, but strangely enough the fellow took no offence. Instead, he closed his swollen eye for a second time, then spat upon his hands, and, as he struggled with his burden, grunted pleasantly:

"I pretty near--got you, Georgie. If you hadn't 'a' ducked, we'd 'a' been at it yet, eh?"

Balt smiled in turn, then gingerly felt of the k.n.o.b behind his ear.

"Did you have a fight with him?" queried Emerson.

"Not exactly a fight, but he put this nubbin on my conch," answered the fisherman. "He's a tough proposition, one of the best we've got."

"What was the trouble?"

"Nothing! I used to have to lick him every year. We've sort of missed each other lately."

"Then you were merely renewing a pleasant acquaintance?" laughed the younger man. "He hit you in the mouth too, I see."

"No, I got that from a stranger. I was bedding him down when he kicked me with his boot. He ain't here this morning."'

"If I were you, I'd go up to the hotel and get some sleep," Boyd advised.

"I'll oversee things."

George hesitated. "I don't know if I'd better go or not. They've all got hang-overs, and they're liable to bu'st out any minute if you don't watch them. They ain't vicious, understand; they just like to frolic around."

"I'll watch them."

After a contemplative glance at his companion's well-knit figure, Balt gave in, with the final caution: "Don't let them get the upper hand, or there won't be no living with them."

After his departure, Boyd was not long in learning the cause of his hesitancy, for no sooner did the men realize the change in authority over them than they undertook to feel out the mettle of their new foreman.

Directly one of them approached him, with the demand:

"Get us a drink, boss; we're thirsty."

"There is the water-tap," said Emerson. "Help yourself."

"Go on! We don't want water. Rustle up a keg of beer, will you?"

"Nothing doing."

He turned back to his task, but a moment later Boyd saw him making for the sh.o.r.e end of the dock, and with a few strides placed himself in his path.

"Where are you going?"

"After a drink, of course."

"You want to quit, eh?"

The man eyed him for an instant, then answered: "No! The job's all right, but I'm thirsty."

Those working near ceased their labors and gathered around, whereupon their companion addressed them.

"Say! It's a great note when a fellow can't have a drink. Come on, boys, I'll set 'em up." There was a general laugh and a forward movement of all within hearing, which Boyd checked with a rough command.

"Get back to work, all of you." But the spokesman, disregarding his words, attempted to pa.s.s, whereupon without warning Boyd knocked him down with a clean blow to the face. At this the others yelled and rushed forward, only to be met by their foreman, who had s.n.a.t.c.hed a bale-hook. It was an ugly weapon, and he used it so viciously that they quickly gave him room.

"Now get to work," he ordered, quietly. "You can quit if you want to, but I'll lay out the first fellow that goes after a drink. Make up your minds what you want to do. Quick!"

There was a moment's hesitation, and then, with the absurd vagary of a crowd, they broke into loud laughter and slouched back to work, two of them dragging the cause of the outburst to the water-faucet, where they held his head under the stream until he began to sputter and squirm.

Before those at the gangway had noticed the disturbance it was all over, and thereafter Boyd experienced no trouble. On the contrary, they worked the better for his proof of authority, and took him into their fellowship as if he had qualified to their entire satisfaction. Even the man he had struck seemed to share in the general respect rather than to cherish the least ill-feeling. The respite was brief, however, for the work had not continued many hours before a stranger made his way quietly in upon the dock and began to argue with the first fisherman he met. Boyd discovered him quickly, and, approaching him, demanded:

"What do you want?"

"Nothing," said the new-comer.

"Then get out."

"What for? I'm just talking to this man."

"I can't allow any talking here. Hurry up and get out."

"This is a free country. I ain't hurting you."

"Will you go?"

"Say! You can't load that cargo this way," the man began, threateningly.

"And you can't make me go--"

At which Emerson seized him by the collar and quickly disproved the a.s.sertion, to the great delight of the fishermen. He marched his prisoner to the dock entrance and thrust him out into the street with the warning: "Don't you let me catch you in here again."

"I'm a union man and you can't load that ship with 'scabs!'" The stranger swore as he slunk off. "You'll be sorry for this." But Boyd motioned him away and summoned two of his men to stand guard with him.