AN ANCHOR TO WINDWARD

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1756, 1 November 1905, Page 10

AN ANCHOR TO WINDWARD

(By Wm. i?. Brown.) The statue 01 Buddha, squatting between two red sea-ians on the narrow mantlepiece, emued. inscrutably, as if the ancient god understood to weariness the alpha and omega of all human schemes. It was a derisive smile that wore on Deacon Harding s nerves. “Tha thing ougnt to ue hove over the edge of Crowells Wharf!” he snapped irritably. “i]ols air nols, whether they be bowed down ter or jest used for sinful ornament; they're agin' the Seripter, an' I don't call it decent'Ao have em' in the house.” » “Diuino but l agree with you, deacon,” Cap’n Amos admitted 'apologetically, “but you see that figger ain't mine; it belongs to Lem. He’s kep' it there ever since we went into partnership in’ an’ he come to live with me: an' now that he can't see I wouldn't feel jest right if I took it down. I alius call it Portugee Sam, 'cause it looks a mighty sight like a Guinea cook I had once on the Mary Wilkins, but Lem says it's his anchor to wind'ard, for the beggin’bowl feller that give it to him—he was in the Blast Injies then, master -of the barque Sunbeam —said if he kep' it care ful it would save him from a great misfortune, some time, i don’t s'pose Lem ever took anv stock in the yarn, really.” Captain Amos concluded deprecatingly, “though them heathen priests ain't fools by a long shot; one of 'em told me once ”

“'Tain't none o' my business,” interrupted the deacon, reaching for his hat, “an' I didn't come here to listen to the upholdin’ of ijols—my time is too val'able. If there ain't nuthin' else you’ve got to say, I'll be goin'.” ‘‘Then you ain't goin' to lend me tire extry two hundred ?” queried the captain anxiously. “The Boston doctor won’t op'rate on Lem's eyes for a cent less — that’s half his reg'lar price—an' I swun I dunno what I’m goin' to- do. Lobsters is almighty scurse this summer, an' I'm gettin' behind deliverin' to the Wessagusset House now, 'tliout Lem to help me, an' they won't pay me no money 'less I keep right up to the contract.” “I don't see's I kin, jest now,” returned the deacon evasively. “I’ve got a mortgage on this house already for the three hundred I lent you a year ago, when your lobster traps come ashore in the blow an' stove up. I can't afford to risk money an' ihere ain’t nobodv in Fairport tbat'd give more’n four hundred and fifty for the house an' lot, under the hammer.”

“It'ts wutli eight, if 'tie a cent !" retorted Captain Amo© warmly, “an' I'm willin' to pay good int'rest." “Mebbe," allowed the deacon dryly, “Speakin' of int’rest, I ©'pose you ain't forgot it'© due to-morrer fer the last half year? Hadn't you better pay it now an' save my cornin' over here ag'in ?" Captain Amos Stubbs cleared bis throat nervously. “I was goin' to ask if you wouldn't give me a little more time. It took 'bout all I had saved up to git Cap'n Lem to Boston an' pay for lievin' his eyes overhauled—them city doctor© want more salvage money 'n a iiner would pay for towin'."

“If you ain't prepared to pay it. * I cal'late I'll hev' to foreclose an' git back my principal," the deacon barked sharply. “ 'Cording to the term© of the mortgage, I kin do it without further notice.” On the threshold of' the door he turned. “You an' Lem Higgins air gittin' to he purty old men to expect to borrow money 'tbout good security," he chuckled sarcastically. “It’s time ye was lookin’ for more substantial groun'tackle than a heathen . ijol. I'll give you till the 'pinted time, then if you can't pay mv lawful int’rest I'll have to sell you out!" Deacon- Harding passed into the sandy, straggling street. and clambered stiffly into bis buggv. Captain Stubbs watched the sun-cracked back of the ancient vehicle disappear, and, sighing heavily, closed the door. “I can't think of another thing to do," he said aloud. “I ain't got nuthin' hut the house, an’ I can't git no money on that anywheres, 'cause of the fust mortgage. It’s sartin that if suthin' ain't done for Lem's eyes right off he’ll be blind for good—the doctor said 'twould be no use to op'rate a month from now. Lem don't complain—it’d seem more nat'ral if he did—hut it must be tough to see nothin', an' it was less'n six months ago that he could pick up the buoys goin’ out of the no'th-east channel quicker 'n I could—for all he's eight years older 'n I he. Don't seem jest right •" The old captain's voice choked, and he wheeled angrily toward the mantlepiece. “Purty anchor to wind'ard you he." he cried with scorn, “sittin’ up there grinnin' wusser 'n a sea-sculpin. when the man that's alius looked arter you an' kep' your ugly old hulk from bein' knocked to pieces—>an' wouldn't sell you to the actor woman at the Fort P'int House last summer for twenty-five dollars—is drifting on a lee shore with his lights out an' nobody to help him but me —an' I can't do nuthin'. Even ijols in tbe Bible did suthin’ once in a while, if they was stove up arter wards, an' if

you was wuth a darn you'd——Lord,'* the captain broae off in a disgusted voice, “what a tool 1 be! As if a -stun, image had. sense an' reason !” The captain's old grizzled head sagged forward helplessly between his shoulders. Shoving his hands aeep m his trouser pockets, he slowly mounted the creaking stairs, xhe tall, gaunt man huddled id ■a rocking chair by the window at the far end of the chamber’s sloping ceiling, threw back the folds of his faded dress-ing-gown and sat up expectantly as Captain Amos came wheezing into the room. “D'you git the money?” he demanded eagerly. “You don't say nuthin', and I can't see how you look!” With an inarticulate gulp Captain Amos crossed the room and laid his hand protectingly on his partner's shoulder. “The ol' shark wouldn't do it, Lem,” he said simply. Captain Higgins’ lean fingers closed on the arms of liis chair until the cords stood out rigid under the brown and wrinkled skin, and a groan, eloquent of long and patient endurance suddenly giving way, blurted from between his set teeth.

Captain Amos' arm slid around the collar of the dressing gown. “Don’t take it so hard, shipmate, dm’t!” he entreated huskily. I kin figger out a course yet. If I can't, we'll git along somehow—you needn't worry. S'long's I've got strength to pull an oar an' haul a trap. I'll stan' your watch an' mine, too!”

“D’you think I'll iiang on till-I sink you, tix> ?” Captain Higgins demanded fiercely. “I won't hev you work yourself to death keepin' a condemned hulk like me afloat. I'm a-goin’ to the Sailors' Home —that's Avhere I belong now!” “Ain't things bad enough without your talkin' like an' ol' fool ?’’ roared Captain Amos desperately, his lips twitching. “Didn't you lend me the money I put into the three-master an' lost an' wouldn't take no int'rest, nuther? We've been shipmates ever since we was little fellers diggin' clams together back of Gull PAnt.” The captain's voice dropped hoarsely. “I'll stan' by, Lem, till we both hev to go! I reckon the James boys 'll lend me suthin’ on the dory an’ the traps, an' ——” A shout from below, accompanied by a vigorous knocking, interrupted the captain's rapid speech. “Cap'n Stubbs, alioy! Here’s a man wants to see Cap’n Lem!”

The captain hastened to the stairs. “I didn’t hear the stage stop, d'you, Lem ?’’ he queried over his shoulder. “But that's Bill Crowell a-hailin'. Mebbe he's got somebody that wants lobsters.” - . ■ •

_ A stranger stood in the doorway—a clean cut, silk-hatted old gentleman, alien to Fairport from the gold eyeglass pinched on his thin scholarly nose, to the shinin" patent-leathers that incased liis slim feet. “Captain Amos Stubbs?” he inquired pleasantly. “Yes, sir,” agreed the captain wcnderingly. “If you're arter lobsters, I don't bile 'em no more —the Wessagusset House takes all I kin ” “I am not interested in edible crustaceans,” returned the stranger, smiling. “If I may, I should like to come in and talk with Captain Lemuel Higgins—he lives here, doesn't he?” “Yes,” admitted Captain Stubbs, “but he don’t talk to nobody since his eyes went back on him; he's kinder sensitive about it.”

“I learned of Captain Higgins' affliction from the stage-driver,” said the alien, advancing, “and I fancy, from some unsolicited information with which Mr Crowell favoured me, he will be interested in wbat I have to say." He drew a card from hi© pocket and extended it. - William Stokes Bndieott, Muse-eum of Fine Arts, Boston, Massachusetts," Captain Amos mumbled aloud, his eyes lifting blankly to his visitor's face.

“I'll state my errand at once," announced the professor briskly, “for I am desirous of connecting with the return train for Boston, and Mr Crowell is to wait for me on his way to the station. I am a member of the staff of the Museum of Fine Arts —as my card doubtless explains—and at present am engaged in arranging a collection of specimens of ancient Hindoo art. From a lady who chanced to spend the summer at one of your hotels here, I recently learned that a certain Captain Lemuel Higgiiis possessed an image of the god Buddha, and from the description —although necessarily amateurish —I judged it might possibly be a certain desired unit unfortunately missing from our collection. If on examination I find my opinion justified. I am prepared to negotiate for its purchase."

“Air you talkin' about Portugee Sam?" demanded Captain Amos, jerking his blunt finger toward the mantelpiece. “Well, I dunno —I'll ask Lem — it's his'n." The stranger reached the shelf in three step© and took down the idol with extreme care, untelligible murmurs of satisfaction agitating his thin, lips a© he turned it wer and over in his hand. “Ask Captain Higgins to name a price for this," he commanded. “Lem," Captain Amos bawled up tbe stairway. “There’s a feller down here wants to know if you'll sell Portugee Siam, an' how much you want. What'll I tell him?" “I don't care," came back indifferently ; “ 'taint no good to me—you're the only anchor to wind'ard I got that am t draggin’ now." , , _ f I reckon he'll sell," remarked Captain Amos, turning with a curious quaver m his voice; “but we want a fair price—there was an actor woman offered us twenty-five——” , The professor lifted his hand deprecatingly. . , , „ “The museum is prepared to pay five hundred dollars for the Buddha, he said stiffly. “It is not our custom to haggle; if this amount is satisfactory to Captain Higgins I will make out a cheque at once." _ , . •. “Five hundred l" gasped Captain Stubbs, his eves bulging with astonishment. “You ain’t loony, be you? Five hundred dollars, now, right off for Portugee Sam?. "Well, I reckon that 11 be

about as satisfactory as anything I know on! - .. ~ Presently a shaft .of waning sunlight shot through the narrow chamber window, lingered caressingly on two grey heads bent together over a slip of greyblue, crackly paper, and withdrew into the mystery of the coming twilight. As the shadow fell, Captain Amos lifed his face toward the glowing, west and cleared his throat energetically,' f, He warn’t s> wuss, if he was homelier J n a skate,” he said solemnly. ‘Tve laid to a good many anchors in my time, kedges, an* mushrooms, an’ ordinary—but Sam beat ’em all for holdin’—darned if he didn't!”