Wild Norene/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
Defiance.
SALLY WOOD had not seen the girl who had stood for an instant in the doorway, and thought little of it when Jack Connor excused himself and hurried across the room, thinking some friend had called him.
Connor made his way rapidly around the room, shaking off his acquaintances who would have detained him, and reached the open doorway. He waited there for a moment, until he was sure nobody was watching him, then slipped into the other room.
She stood a dozen feet from the doorway, awaiting him. In an instant he was at her side.
"You wanted me?" he asked.
He looked down into her face. He regretted the liquor he had taken, and the very thought of such a girl in such a place half sobered him. But her eyes met his without drooping, and he read in them that she was good.
"Perhaps we'd better walk out on the street," he said. "This is scarcely a place—"
"Wait," she interrupted. "I want you to do something for me. You said this afternoon—"
"That any time I could do you a service you had but to let me know. I still say the same."
"Look through the doorway then. You see the third man from the end of the bar—the one with the red handkerchief about his neck?"
"The one with the scar on his right cheek?"
"Yes. My father gave him that scar one day because he was impudent. He has hated my father and me since. This evening I learned of something he said—about me."
"Yes?"
"It wasn't complimentary. It was an insult."
Connor's eyes met hers again, and he did not need to ask more questions. His fists clenched.
"I saw him come in here a short time ago," the girl went on, "and as I passed the place the door was open and I saw you. I remembered what you had said, and took the liberty of entering and asking you to do me a service."
"I shall do so gladly."
"I want you to thrash that man."
He looked at her quickly. This girl, with goodness in her face, thought nothing apparently of asking that a man be given a beating.
He looked through the doorway at the man again.
"His name is Riney," the girl was saying. "You'll thrash him for me because of the insult he has offered?"
"Consider it done," Connor said.
"But first you may walk as far as the corner with me, if you will."
He ushered her from the place, put himself at her side, and they hurried to the corner. She clung to his arm, and Connor's heart throbbed.
"I suppose you think I am a peculiar girl for asking you to do such a thing," she said.
"I have no right to think so. No doubt you have a good reason for it. But I would suggest, if you'll allow me, that this part of town—"
"Is no place for me? I can take care of myself, sir."
She was smiling as she spoke.
He met her eyes again, half afraid of what he might see there.
And she read his thought.
"I don't want you to think that I am a—a bad girl," she whispered. "Don't think, please, that I am used to associating with—with—"
"Such persons as are to be found here? Myself, for instance?" he asked.
"I did not mean that. I feel sure you are a good man."
"A woman like you would make a saint out of a sinner," he said.
"Here we are at the corner. You'd better return now. I shall know if you do as I have asked."
"When I beat him I shall remember that he insulted you."
"Yes. And thank you!"
"Shall I see you again?" he asked. "I don't even know your name."
"Does the name make much difference?" she asked.
"None at all."
"And you want to see me again?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps to-morrow afternoon I'll be walking along Commercial Street, where you saw me to-day. I am not certain—"
"I'll watch for you then."
She held out her hand, and he clasped it.
She smiled at him again, then hurried away.
Connor looked after her until she had disappeared in the darkness down the street, then turned back toward the resort.
He did not question. She had asked him to thrash a man who had insulted her, and he promised himself to do the task well.
He did not care to know the circumstances. He did not care to remember she had entered the resort to call him. He gave her credit for courage in doing so, feeling that it had taken courage for her to stand there in the midst of painted women and men who thought nothing of approaching any woman to be found there.
When he reentered the resort he did not see the man Riney at first. Riney had left the bar and crossed the room again, to sit at the table within a few paces of Guerrero and Captain Bill Adams.
The captain was bent over the table in the shadow, listening, waiting.
"Garza has arrived," Guerrero was whispering to him.
"Has he located Riney yet?"
"Yes; he is coming this way. He has nodded to Riney. Now he sits down beside him."
Garza was wise, however. He and Riney regarded each other as if they had been strangers.
Garza ordered a drink and when it arrived tossed it off. Then he looked across at Riney and winked.
"Fishing good?" Garza asked.
"Great!" said Riney. "I know a craft whose hold is full."
"Shipping 'em south, eh?"
"I should guess," said Riney slowly, "that she would float out to-morrow evening with the tide."
Guerrero's eyes met Captain Adams's across the table, and the captain nodded slowly.
He had heard. Riney, his mate, had sold him out. There was nothing enigmatical about his conversation with Garza, the secret-service agent. The hold was full of fish—the ship would sail to-morrow evening with the tide. The hold was full of arms and ammunition; the Amingo would start on her voyage to the aid of revolutionists in less than twenty-four hours—that was the meaning.
Captain Adams stood up, and so did Guerrero.
The captain's rage was not of the sort that makes a man "fly off the handle" and "have it out." Guerrero shuddered as he looked at the face of the old sea-dog. Captain Adams was the sort of man who would proceed with deliberation and refined cruelty in such a case.
Not for any amount of money would Guerrero have stood in the shoes of Mate Riney.
But as Adams turned to confront the traitorous mate another man lurched across the room and half fell against the table at which Riney and Garza were sitting.
It was Jack Connor, feigning intoxication.
"Look where you're going," Riney growled.
"Keep out of the way!" shouted Connor.
He kicked at the table, and it went over. He reached for Riney, who sprang to his feet and aimed a terrific blow at Jack Connor's head. And then Riney realized his mistake; Jack Connor was not intoxicated. He stepped swiftly to one side, and his fist crashed into the mate's face.
In an instant they were at it, and every one in the room had crowded forward, making a great ring of human bodies, to watch the combat.
Members of the Amingo's crew were there, cheering on their mate, who had a reputation as a fighter. Jack Connor's friends were there, too, and stood in the ring, grinning with delight.
They had seen Connor fight before. He had punishment in his blows, and he had fistic science in addition.
The mate's terrific blows struck empty air; Connor's fists played on the other man's face, head, and breast.
Slowly and surely Connor was beating his antagonist down. He was delaying the final blow purposely, making Riney take all the punishment he could stand. He remembered only that the man he was beating had insulted the girl he had met that afternoon.
Riney's shipmates saw how the battle was going, and edged forward. It was an axiom of the sea that Captain Adams's men stood together in brawls.
A foot was thrown out, Connor was tripped, and as he saved himself from sprawling on the floor a blow from Riney's fist caught him on the side of the head and staggered him.
A roar of rage at the foul trick came from a score of throats. In an instant the fight had become general. Connor's friends sprang to meet the men from the Amingo.
But in that last instant Connor's fist stretched Riney to the floor.
Garza had made his escape. Guerrero hung close to the wall.
Captain Adams, towering above the other men, watched the combat as it raged, his arms folded.
Riney, getting up from the floor with the intention of continuing the combat, saw his captain's eyes fixed on him. He recognized the coat the captain was wearing, and knew that the captain had been sitting a few feet away while he had been talking to Garza.
Riney knew well nothing but suspicion would bring Captain Adams to such a place. And he realized what form the vengeance of the captain would take.
He stooped and started toward the combatants again. But as several men came between the captain and himself, he turned and darted toward the door, escaped into the night, and fled toward the water-front.
Sally Wood, standing on the platform against the end of the piano, caught sight of the mate's face as he flashed past her and to the door.
Her own face turned white, and she staggered to a chair and sat down.
Morgan had been beaten to the floor, and others of Jack Connor's friends had met with disaster. The crew of the Amingo could fight. Connor found himself almost alone, in a circle of flying fists.
His rage redoubled. The odds were not fair. He threw himself into the fray with renewed zeal.
A weight of human bodies assailed him. His foot slipped and he crashed to the floor. Men were on top of him, striking him, trying to choke him.
Some one near him was screeching:
"Let him up! Tie his hands behind him! Take him to the cap'n!"
Others of the Amingo's crew took up the cry:
"Take him to th' cap'n! Cap'n Bill will know what to do with the man that smashed the mate!"
Connor began fighting again as they let him up. He had heard of Captain Bill Adams; he didn't intend to let these men carry him aboard the Amingo.
But his struggles were in vain. They fastened his hands behind him and started him toward the alley door, half carrying him, some of them guarding the rear to prevent Connor's friends from effecting a rescue.
"Take 'im to th' cap'n!" they cried.
A giant of a man stepped between them and the door and held up a hand. "Stop!" he cried. "Turn that man loose!"
The sailors of the Amingo gazed at him in amazement. One of them laughed aloud. Another looked away, afraid to meet the skipper's eyes.
"Why, it's th' cap'n!" another cried. "It's Cap'n Bill!"
Jack Connor, knowing the captain had heard his conversation earlier in the evening regarding himself and his niece, felt something like fear clutch at his heart for a moment as he looked at the giant in front of him whose eyes met his and held them.
"Turn him loose!" the captain repeated.
"But he beat up Mate Riney, cap'n!"
"I saw it! Turn him loose!"
"He beat up th' mate!"
"That's why I'm telling you to turn him loose!" cried the captain, walking toward them. "He saved me a job. I was going to beat Riney up myself."
Wondering at the skipper's manner, his men obeyed him, and Jack Connor soon stood in their midst with his arms and hands free.
Señor Guerrero, who had been standing beside the door, hurried forward and stood on tiptoe to whisper something in the captain's ear. The captain nodded his head.
"Go aboard, men—all of you!" he commanded. "Round up the others! I want every one aboard in half an hour—every one except Riney!"
It was the old sea-dog giving a command. The men disappeared as if by magic influence.
"As for you," said the captain, stepping up to Jack Connor, "I want to talk to you. Come over in the corner."
Connor followed him slowly, ready for the combat he felt sure was coming.
He remembered how he had made sport of Captain Bill in the captain's hearing; remembered what he had said concerning the captain's niece, Wild Norene.
Morgan, on his feet again, holding one hand to a bruised and bloody face, sensed the situation, and attracted the attention of certain of Connor's friends. At a short distance away they waited, ready to plunge to the rescue if Captain Bill Adams opened hostilities.
They had heard of Captain Bill. Even Jack Connor would have difficulty standing up to Captain Bill.
Captain Bill sat down at the table and motioned Connor to the other chair. Guerrero remained standing against the wall a short distance away, wishing the captain would hurry, fearful for the success of their enterprise.
The mate had been unmasked; Garza, the secret-service agent, knew facts and details. They might not wait many hours before making a move.
Even now, when the captain was away, they might be descending upon the ship, and the few men left aboard might be making an inspection of the cargo in the Amingo's hold.
"You're a sailor?" the captain asked Connor.
"Yes. I've got a mate's ticket."
"It is none of my business why you thrashed Riney," the captain went on. "I'm glad you did it, however. I had just discovered that he was a man I couldn't trust. I'm minus a mate. Do you want his job?"
Connor looked up quickly and met the captain's eyes.
"You're offering me the berth?" he demanded.
"I am."
"And to-night you sat here and heard me grill you and say things about your—your niece."
Captain Adams's eyes flashed for an instant, then he regained his composure.
"I'm not speaking of that. Do you want the job?"
Connor laughed lightly.
"No, thanks!" he replied. "You'd get me aboard and beat me to death as soon as we got to sea. I'm taking no chances with you after you heard what I said this evening. Do you think I am a fool? And, besides, I don't like the voyage you're to take. I don't like your cargo."
The captain restrained his anger and bent forward across the table.
"As to my cargo," he said, "that is none of your business. You are not supposed to know anything about it when you ship. As to the other thing you mention—you've heard whether my word is good."
"I've heard it is as good as gold," said Connor.
"Very well. I give you my word of honor that I'll not lay a hand on you during the voyage. Understand? Does that satisfy you? And you can bring your friend Morgan along. I need another man or two."
"I don't doubt your word, captain. But I'll decline the job with thanks."
Their eyes clashed again.
"I want you," said Captain Adams. "You're the sort of man I need on the Amingo. I'm going to sail within twenty-four hours, and when I sail, you'll be aboard."
"I guess not!"
"I'm a man of my word, you've admitted. And I give you my word right now that you'll sail with me. You'll sail with me, as my mate, whether you want to or not!"
"I don't care to sail with any one just now," said Connor, remembering the girl he had met, and her half promise that he was to see her again. "And, if I did, I'd not sail with you! I've got money and friends, and Astoria is my home port.
"And even Captain Bill Adams can't make me sign on when I don't want to do it! You can understand that!"