Books: Harrigan
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Max Brand >> Harrigan
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But Harrigan was in charge. When men wilted and pitched to their faces
on the sooty, dusty floor, he trussed them under one arm and bore them
up to the air. Then he went back and drove them on again. Before the
end of that day, however, with the coast still a full thirty-hour run
ahead of them, it became literally impossible to continue longer in the
fireroom. But Harrigan would not leave. He had a hose introduced into
the hold. The men worked absolutely naked with a stream of water
playing on them. Now and again when one of them collapsed, Harrigan
snatched the fire bar or the shovel from the hands of the worker and
labored furiously until another substitute was found.
The necessity of his presence was amply demonstrated that night. The
Irishman was too exhausted to continue another minute, and the men
helped him to the deck and sluiced buckets of salt water over his
great, trembling body. To keep the men at work, Campbell went down in
the hole.
They had to carry him up in half an hour. Then McTee tried his hand. He
stood the heat as well as Harrigan, but he could not inspire such
daredevil enthusiasm in the men. They missed the raucous, cheery voice
of Harrigan; they missed the inspiring sight of that flame-red hair;
and they missed above all his peculiar driving force. In other words,
when Harrigan came among them, they felt _hope_, and when a man has
hope, he will work on in the face of death.
And at last McTee came up and begged Harrigan to go back. He went, and
found an empty fireroom and dying fires. He ran back to the deck, and
at his shout the dead veritably rose to life. Men staggered to their
feet to follow him below. Every man on the ship took his turn. Hovey
came down and passed coal; McTee came down and wielded the fire bar,
doing the labor of three men while he could endure.
And the _Heron_ drove on toward the shore. The morning passed; the
afternoon wore away. It was a matter of hours now before the shore
would be in sight, and McTee spread this news among the crew. He sent
little Kamasura and Shida, the cabin boys, running here and there
saying to every man they passed: "Four hours! Four hours! Four hours!"
And then: "Three hours! Three hours! Three hours!"
And the crew swallowed whisky neat and returned to the fireroom.
At sunset, dim as a shadow, a thing to be guessed at rather than known,
the man on the bridge sighted land. The word spread like lightning. The
staggering workers in the fireroom heard and joined the cheer which
Harrigan started. Then the catastrophe came.
A torch of red fire licked up the stern of the ship; the flames had
eaten their way out to the open air!
It was the quick action of McTee which kept the panic from spreading to
the hold of the ship at once and bringing up every one of the workers
from the fireroom. He gathered the sailors on deck who had strength
enough left to walk, and they made a line and attacked the flames with
buckets of water. There was, of course, no possibility of quelling the
fire at its source, for by this time the hold of the ship where the
wheat was stowed must have been one glowing mass of smoldering matter.
Yet they were able, for a time, to keep the course of the fire from
spreading over the decks of the ship.
With this work fairly started, McTee ran back to the forward cabin and
upper deck of the _Heron_ and set several men to tear down some of the
framework, sufficient at least to build enough rafts to maintain the
crew in the water. So the three sections of the work went on--the
firefighting, the lifesaving, and the driving of the ship. McTee on
deck managed two ends of it; Harrigan in the fireroom handled the most
desperate responsibility. It seemed as if these two men by their naked
will power were lifting the lives of the crew away from the touch of
death and hurling the ship toward the shore.
And now for an hour, for two hours, that ghastly labor continued. The
entire stern of the _Heron_ was a sheet of flames when the last workers
staggered up from the fireroom, their skin seared and blistered by the
terrific heat. Last of all came Harrigan, raving and cursing and
imploring the men to return to their work. As he staggered up the deck,
reeling and sobbing hoarsely, Kate Malone ran to him. She pointed out
across the waters ahead of the ship. There rose the black shadow of the
shore and under it a thin line of white--the breakers!
Now by McTee's direction the rafts were hoisted and dragged over the
side of the ship, while one frail line of men remained to struggle
against the encroaching flames.
They were licking into the waist of the _Heron_, and the wireless house
was a mass of red; White Henshaw was burning at sea, and the prophecy
was fulfilled.
The last of the rafts were hoisted overboard and half a dozen men
tumbled into each. When the rest of the crew were overboard, McTee,
Kate, and Harrigan, lingering behind by mutual consent, took one raft
to themselves. All about them tossed the other rafts, and not one man
of all the crowd had thought of the golden treasure which they were
abandoning with the _Heron_. Each might be carrying a few gold pieces,
but the wealth of White Henshaw would go back into the sea from which
it came.
They had not abandoned the flaming ship too soon. A fresh breeze was
sweeping from the ocean onto the shore, and red tongues licked about
the main cabin and darted like reaching hands into the heart of the
sky. By these flashes they could make out the struggling rafts where
the sailors cheered and yelled in the triumph of their escape. But
McTee set about erecting a jury sail.
He wrenched off two strips of board from their raft and across these he
and Harrigan affixed their shirts. The same wind which had lashed the
fires forward on the _Heron_ now hurried the fugitives toward the
shore. They had a serious purpose in outstripping the rest of the
rafts, because when the mutineers reached the shore, the mood of
gratitude which they held for Harrigan and McTee was sure to change,
for these two men could submit enough evidence to hang them in any
country in the world.
Looking back, the _Heron_ was a belching volcano, which suddenly lifted
in the center with the sound of a dozen siege guns in volleyed unison,
and a column of fire vaulted high into the heavens. Before they reached
the tossing heart of the breakers, the _Heron_ was dwindling and
sliding, fragment by fragment into the sea.
Through those breakers the last light from the ship helped them, and
the wind tugging at their little jury sail aided to drive them on until
they could swing off the raft and walk toward the beach, carrying Kate
between them. On the safe, dry sands they turned, and as they looked
back, the Heron slid forward into the ocean and quenched her fires with
a hiss that was like a far-heard whisper of the sea.
CHAPTER 38
Meanwhile the shouts of the mutineers rang louder and louder as their
rafts edged in toward the land, so the three turned again and made
directly inland. A hundred yards from the edge of the water they were
in a dense jungle such as only exists in a Central American swamp
region, but they waded and splashed on, and clambered over rotten
stumps, slick with wet moss, and stepped on fragments of wood that
crumbled under their feet. And all the time they kept the girl between
them, lifting her clear of the noisome water as much as possible.
The shouting of the mutineers, however, urged them on, and from the
sound of the voices there was no doubt that Hovey and his men were
combing the marsh for the fugitives. Torches had been made by the
sailors, and behind them, now and then, they caught a glimpse of a
winking eye of light. This drove them on, and just when the shouts of
the mutineers began to die away, the marsh ended as abruptly as it had
begun, and they started to climb a slope where the thicket changed to
an almost open wood. The rise was not long, for after some hours of
weary trudging, they reached a road.
Down this they straggled with stumbling feet. They had not spoken for
nearly two hours, as though they wished to save even the breath of
speech for some trial which might still await them. Kate was half
unconscious with fatigue, and McTee on her left and Harrigan on her
right carried most of her weight.
In this manner they came in sight of a light which developed into a
low-roofed, broad house with a hospitable veranda stretching about it.
They made directly for it, traversing a level field until they came to
the door. McTee supported Kate while Harrigan knocked. There was
silence within the house, and then a whisper, a stir, the padding of a
slippered foot, and the door was jerked open. A tall man with a narrow,
pointed beard appeared. He held a lantern in one hand and a pistol in
the other; for those were troubled times in that republic. The light
fell full on the haggard face of Kate, and the man started back.
"Enter, my children," he said in Spanish, and tossing his weapon onto a
little hall table, he held out his hand to them.
With a great voice he brought his family and servants about them in a
few seconds. To a wide-eyed girl with a frightened voice, he gave the
care of Kate, and the two went off together. The master of the house
himself attended to the needs of Harrigan and McTee.
There were few questions asked. This was a question of dire need, and
the Spanish-American loves to show his hospitality. Talking was for the
morning. In the meantime his guests would require what? Perhaps sleep?
Perhaps a bath first? They answered him with one voice, for they both
spoke a little Spanish, picked up in their wanderings. Sleep!
The next day they woke about noon to find clothes laid out for them,
the immaculate white clothes which the tropics require. They were led
to a high-ceilinged bathroom cool with glazed, white bricks which lined
it, where the two servants poured over them bucket after bucket of cold
water, and the grime of the voyage and the labors in the fireroom and
the mighty weariness of their muscles disappeared little by little in
slow degrees. Then a shave, then the white clothes, and they were ready
for presentation to Senor Jose, Barrydos y Maria y Leon and his family.
And here was a time of many words indeed. It was McTee who told the
story of the wreck, and even with his broken Spanish the tale was so
vivid that Senor Jose was forced to rise and walk up and down the room,
calling out upon a hundred various saints. In the end it was clear in
his eyes that he had to deal with two heroes. As such they could have
lived with him as honored guests forever.
Then Kate came into the room with the daughter of the house. She wore a
green dress of some light material which fluttered into folds at every
move. The Spaniard straightened up from his chair. The two big men
followed suit, staring wide-eyed upon her. It seemed as if some miracle
had been worked in her, for they looked in vain for any traces of her
helpless weariness of the night before.
There was a color in her cheeks and her eyes were bright and quiet. To
Senor Jose Barrydos y Maria y Leon she gave both her hands, and he
bowed over them and kissed them both. His courtliness made Harrigan and
McTee exchange a glance, perhaps of envy and perhaps of disquiet, for
she accepted this profound courtesy with an ease as if she had been
accustomed to nothing else all her life.
But what a smile there was for each of them afterward! It left them
speechless, so that they glowered upon each other and were glad of the
soft flow of Senor Jose's words as he led them in to the breakfast
table.
And when the meal had progressed a little and some of the edge of the
novelty of the situation and story had worn away, the Spaniard said:
"But is it not true? Strange news floats in the air this week."
"What news?" asked Harrigan. "Our wireless was out of commission for
days."
"True! Then you must learn from me?"
He drew a breath and stiffened in his chair, then with a gesture of
apology and a smile he added: "Why should I hunt for pompous words? I
can tell you in one phrase: the world is at war, gentlemen!"
They merely gaped upon him.
"German troops have entered Belgium; France, England, and Russia are at
war with Germany and Austria!"
He waited for the astonishment to die away in their eyes.
Kate was shaking her head. "It is impossible," she said. "There may be
a disturbance, but the world is past the time of great wars. Men are
now too civilized, and--"
Here she stopped, for her eyes fell on the faces of Harrigan and McTee.
Civilized? No; she had seen enough to know that civilization strikes no
deeper in human nature than clothes go to change the man.
"Civilized?" Don Jose had taken her up. "Ah, madam, already wild tales
reach us of the Germans in Belgium."
"But there was a treaty," she cried, "and the greatest nations in the
world have guaranteed the neutrality of Belgium. Germany herself--"
"True!" said Jose; "but it is because of the violation of Belgian
neutrality, among other things, that England has entered the war, it is
said."
"Ah-h!" said Harrigan, lapsing suddenly from Spanish into his Irish
brogue. "Thrue for ye, man! John Bull will take the Kaiser by the
throat. In time of peace, why, to hell with England, say I, like all
good Irishmen; but in time av war-r, it's shoulder to shoulder, John
Bull an' Paddy, say I, an' we'll lick the wor-r-rld!"
And McTee broke in savagely. "You forget the Scotch. Without the
Scotch, England and Ireland--what could they do? Nothing!"
"Could they not?" said Harrigan, with rising temper. "I tell ye, ye
black Highlander, that wan Irishman--"
"Hush," said Kate earnestly; for the Spaniard was staring at them in
amaze. "It is a world war, and no time for jealousy. England--Scotland
--Ireland--and America, too, in time--we will all be fighting for one
purpose. And when the last test comes, the United States--"
She stopped with a gesture of pride, and Harrigan said with deep
feeling: "Aye, they're a hard lot, the Yankees. But as for the Scotch,"
he went on in a murmur which only McTee could hear--"as for the Scotch,
I wouldn't be wipin' my feet on 'em, when it comes to the fightin'.
D'ye hear me, McTee?"
"And understand," said McTee, smiling broadly, so that none of the rest
might understand; "our time is close at hand, Harrigan. We're on dry
land."
"We are--thank God," answered Harrigan, "but play the game, McTee, till
the girl is cared for."
In the meantime Senor Jose had explained to Kate the nearness of the
city--El Ciudad Grande--for she had been asking many urgent questions.
The upshot of their conversation was that their host offered to take
them immediately into the town, where they could find accommodation at
the one hotel--if they refused his further hospitality. So in half an
hour Senor Jose's carriage of state was harnessed and the four
journeyed into El Ciudad Grande.
Senor Jose went with them to explain to the hotel owner that these were
his guests--his dear friends--his friends of many years' standing--in
fact, his relatives in close blood. In short, he recommended the party
to the special care of the hotelkeeper. Business called the hospitable
Spaniard away. He refused to accept any consideration for the clothes
which he donated to the party, and McTee jingled a handful of Henshaw's
gold in vain. Senor Jose must depart, but he would return the next day.
So the three stood alone together at last. Harrigan was the first to
speak.
"I've an engagement. I'm afther havin' some important business on hand,
Kate, colleen, so I'll be steppin' out." And he turned to go.
"Wait," she called. "I know what your engagements are when the Irish
comes so thick on your tongue, Dan. You were about to have an
engagement also, Angus?"
McTee glowered on Harrigan for having so clumsily betrayed them.
"You are like children," she said softly, "and you let me read your
minds."
She bowed her head in long thought.
Then: "Didn't we pass the sign of the British consul down the street
over that little building?"
"Yes," said McTee, wondering, and again she was lost in thought.
Then she raised her head and stepped close to them with that smile,
half whimsical and half sad.
"I'm going to ask you to let me be alone for a time--for a long time.
It will be sunset in five hours. Will you let me have that long to do
some hard thinking? And will you promise me during that time that you
will not fly at each other's throats the moment you are out of my
sight? For what I will have to say at sunset I know will make a great
deal of difference in your attitude to each other."
"I'll promise," said Harrigan suddenly. "I've waited so long--I can
stand five hours more."
"I'll promise," said McTee; but he scowled upon the floor.
CHAPTER 39
They left her and walked from the hotel. At the door Harrigan turned
fiercely upon the Scotchman.
"Do what ye please for the five hours, McTee, but give me the room I
need for breathin'. D'ye hear? Otherwise I'll be forgettin' me
promises."
"Do I hear ye?" answered McTee, snarling. "Aye, growl while you may.
I'll stop that throat of yours for good--tonight."
He turned on his heel, and the two men separated. Harrigan struck with
a long swing out over a road which led into the rolling fields near the
little town. He walked rapidly, and his thoughts kept pace, for he was
counting his chances to win Kate as a miser counts his hoard of gold.
Two pictures weighed large in his mind. One was of Kate at ease in the
home of the Spaniard. Such ease would never be his; she came from
another social world--a higher sphere. The second picture was of McTee
climbing down from the wireless house and calmly assuming command of
the mutineers in the crisis. Such a maneuver would never have occurred
to the Irishman, and it was only through that maneuver that the ship
had been brought to shore, for nothing save the iron will of McTee
could have directed the mutineers.
When the sun hung low, he turned and strode back toward the village,
and despair trailed him like his shadow.
He began to see clearly now what he had always feared. She loved
McTee--McTee, who spoke clear, pure English, when he chose, and who
could talk of many things. She loved McTee, but she dared not avow that
love for fear of infuriating Harrigan and thereby risking the life of
the Scotchman. It grew plainer and plainer. With the thought of Kate
came another, far different, and yet blending one with another. When he
reached the village, it was still a short time before sunset. He went
straight to the British consulate and entered, for he had reached the
solution of his puzzle.
"My name's Harrigan," he said to the little man with the sideburns and
the studious eyes, "and I've come to know if the old country has sent
for volunteers. I want to go over."
"The old country," said the consul, "has called for volunteers, and I
have discovered a means of sending our boys across the water; but"--and
here he examined Harrigan shrewdly--"but it's an easy thing to take an
Irish name. How am I to know you're not a German, my friend? I've never
seen you before."
Harrigan swelled.
"A German? Me?" he muttered, and then, his head tilted back: "Ye little
wan-eyed, lantern-jawed, flat-headed block, is it me--is it Harrigan ye
call a German? Shtep out from behind the desk an' let me see av you're
a man!"
Strangely enough, the consul did not seem irritated by this outburst.
He was, in fact, smiling. Then his hand went out to the Irishman.
"Mr. Harrigan," he said, "I'm honored by knowing you."
Harrigan stared and accepted the hand with caution; there was still
battle in his eyes.
"And can you send me over?" he asked doubtfully.
"I can. As I said before, we've raised a small fund for just this
purpose."
He drew out a piece of paper and commenced taking down the particulars
of Harrigan's name and birth and other details. Then a short
typewritten note signed by the consul ended the interview. He gave
Harrigan directions about how he could reach a shipping agent on the
eastern coast, handed over the note, and the Irishman stepped out of
the little office already on his way to the world war. He took no
pleasure in his resolution, but wandered slowly back toward the hotel
with downward head. He would speak a curt farewell and step out of the
lives of the two. It would be very simple unless McTee showed some
exultation, but if he did--Here Harrigan refused to think further.
It was well after sunset when he crossed the veranda, and at the door
he found McTee striding up and down.
"Harrigan," said McTee.
"Well?", growled Harrigan.
"Stand over here close to me, and keep your face shut while I'm
speaking. It won't take me long."
The words were insulting enough, but the voice which spoke them was
sadly subdued.
"Listen," said McTee. "What I've got to say is harder for me to do than
anything I've ever done in my life. So don't make me repeat anything.
Harrigan, I've tried to beat you by fair means or foul ever since we
met--ever since you saved my hide in the Ivilei district of Honolulu.
I've tried to get you down, and I've failed. I fought you"--here he
ground his teeth in agony--"and you beat me."
"It was the bucking of the deck that beat you," put in Harrigan.
"Shut up till I'm through or I'll wring your neck and break your back!
I've failed to down you, Harrigan. You beat me on the Mary Rogers. You
made a fool of me on the island. And on the Heron--"
He paused again, breathing hard.
"On the _Heron_, it was you who brought us food and water when we were
dying. And afterward, when Henshaw died, I jumped out before the
mutineers and took command of them because I thought I could win back
in Kate's mind any ground which I'd lost before. I paraded the deck
before her eyes; I gave commands; I was the man of the hour; I was
driving the _Heron_ to the shore in spite of the fire."
"You were," admitted Harrigan sadly. "It was a great work you did,
McTee. It was that which won her--"
"But even when I was in command, you proved yourself the better man,
Harrigan."
The Irishman leaned back against the wall, gasping, weak with
astonishment.
McTee went on: "I paraded the deck; I made a play to make her admire
me, and for a while I succeeded, until the time came when you were
carried up to the deck too weak to keep the men at work in the
fireroom. Ah, Harrigan, that was a great moment to me. I said to Kate:
'Harrigan has done well, but of course he can't control men--his mind
is too simple.'"
"Did you say that?" murmured Harrigan, and hatred made his voice soft,
almost reverent.
"I did, and I went on: 'I suppose I'll have to go down there and drive
the lads back to their work.' So down I went, but you know what
happened. They wouldn't work for me. They stood around looking stupid
at me and left me alone in the fireroom, and I had to come back on
deck, in the sight of Kate, and rouse you out of your sleep and beg you
to go back and try to make the lads keep at their work. And you got up
to your knees, struggling to get back your consciousness! And you
staggered to your feet, and you called to the firemen who lay senseless
and sick on the deck around you--sick for sleep--and when they heard
you call, they got up, groaning, and they reeled after you back to
their work in the fireroom, and some of them dragged themselves along
on their hands and knees. Oh, God!"
He struck his clenched fist across his eyes.
"And all the time I was watching the awe and the wonder come up like a
fire in the eyes of Kate, while she looked after you."
Harrigan watched him with the same stupid amazement.
"Harrigan," said McTee at last, "you've won her. When I walked out by
myself today, I saw that I was the only obstacle between her and her
happiness. She doesn't dare tell you she loves you, for fear that I'll
try to kill you. So I've decided to step out from between--I _have_
stepped out! I'm going back to Scotland and get into the war. If I have
fighting enough, I can forget the girl, maybe, and you! I've talked to
the British consul already, and he's given me a note that will take me
over the water. So, Harrigan, I've merely come to say good-by to you--
and you can say good-by for me to Kate."
"Wait," said Harrigan. "There are a good many kinds of fools, but a
Scotch fool is the worst of all. Take that paper out of your pocket and
tear it up. Ah-h, McTee, ye blind man! Can't ye see that gir-rl's been
eatin' out her hear-rt for the love av ye, damn your eyes? Can't ye see
that the only thing that keeps her from throwin' her ar-rms around your
neck is the fear of Harrigan? Look!"
He pulled out the note which the consul had given him.
"I've got the same thing you have. I'm going to go over the water. I
tell you, I've seen her eyes whin she looked at ye, McTee, an' that's
how I know she loves ye. Tear up your paper! A blight on ye! May ye
have long life and make the girl happy--an' rot in hell after!"
"By God," said McTee, "we've both been thinking the same thing at the
same time. And maybe we're both wrong. Kate said she had something to
say to us. Let's see her first and hear her speak."
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