Swept Out to Sea Part 2

CHAPTER III

IN WHICH I AM ANXIOUS TO LEARN THE PARTICULARS OF A MATTER OF FOURTEEN YEARS STANDING

My mother's summer home was built upon the highest point of Bolderhead Neck and commanded a view of both the ocean and the inlet, or harbor, around which Old Bolderhead was built.

My mother's early life had not been spent near the water; her people dwelt inland. My maternal grandfather owned half a township and was a very influential man. Naturally my mother had lived in affluence during her girlhood and it was considered by her friends a great mistake on her part when she married my father. He was a ship's surgeon when they were married and his only income was derived from the practise of his profession. He established himself as a physician in Bolderhead after the wedding; they lived simply, and I was their only child.

Grandfather didn't forgive mother for marrying a poor man. The old gentleman didn't get along well with his relatives, anyway. He hadn't liked the man his oldest daughter married, Mr. Chester Downes. When I grew old enough to understand the character of Mr. Downes I could not blame grandfather for his bad opinion of the man! Aunt Alice dying before grandfather, Mr. Downes could never hope to handle much of grandfather's money. There was a sum set aside for Paul in grandfather's will. And even that Mr. Downes could not touch; it was tied up until Paul was of age. After several large charities had been remembered in the will the residue of the property had come to my mother. As I understood it I was but two years old when grandfather died, and my own father was drowned three weeks after grandfather's burial.

We had gone to live at once in mother's old home; but she had a tender feeling for Bolderhead, and as I grew older and evinced such a love for the sea, she had built our summer home here.

Mother was one of those dependent, timid women, who seem unable to decide any matter for themselves. Not that she wasn't the very best mother that ever lived! But she _was_ easily influenced by other people.

As I grew older and began to understand what went on more clearly, I knew that Chester Downes possessed a stronger influence over mother than was good for either her or me. He was her confidant in business matters, too.

Being brought up in the same inland town together, my cousin Paul and I naturally saw a good deal of each other. Frankly I saw altogether too much of him--and I told my mother so. But Mr. Downes was all the time coming to the house--especially to the Bolderhead cottage--and bringing Paul with him.

I felt that they were steadily and insidiously influencing mother against me. We were drifting apart. Mother had through them acquired the belief that I was a rude and untrustworthy fellow, and she feared my boatmen companions were weaning me from her. Whereas I kept away from the house because the Downeses were there. I couldn't stand so much of them.

But on this evening I was determined that matters should come to a head.

I saw my way clear, I believed, through Paul's vicious attack upon me, to rid the house of the Downeses for good and all.

As we came up the hill I saw that my mother, and doubtless Mr. Downes, were in the drawing room. It was long past the dinner hour. I drove Paul up onto the veranda and towards a French window that opened into the illuminated room. He began to hang back again.

"S'pose there's somebody there?" he said.

"That'll be the worse for you," I responded, callously. "Come on!"

I unlatched the window, held aside the draperies, and pushed him into the room before me. My mother and his father were the only persons present.

"Why, boys! how late you are," said my pretty mother, looking up from the lacework in her lap. Her fingers were always busy. "Were you becalmed outside? You must be awfully hungry. Ring for James, Clinton, and he will fix you up something nice in the pantry." Then she saw Paul's bound wrists, his bruised face, and our disarranged clothing.

"What is the matter?" she cried, starting to her feet.

Mr. Downes had observed us too, and he broke in with: "What is the meaning of this outrage, Clinton Webb? My son's wrists lashed together!

How dare you, sir?"

"I tied him up, Mr. Downes," I explained before Paul could get in a word; "but I turn him over to your now, sir, and if you wish to release him you may."

"Why--why--Whoever heard of such insolence?" sputtered Mr. Downes. "You see, Mary, what this young ruffian has done to poor Paul? Stand still, will you?" he added, jerking Paul around as he tried to untie the cod line. Paul began to snivel; I reckon his father pulled the line so tight that it cut into the flesh.

"See what he has done, Mary?" repeated my angry uncle, finally pulling out his pocketknife and cutting the cord. "Look at Paul's face! What have I told you about that boy?" and he pointed a bony and accusing index finger at me.

"Clinton! Clinton!" cried mother. "What have you done?"

Her question cut me to the quick. It showed me how deeply she had been impressed by Mr. Downes' calumnies. Her first thought was that I was at fault--that I had been the aggressor.

"You can see what I have done to him," said I, a little sullenly, I fear. "We got into a row on the boat coming in, and that is how he came by his bruises. But I tied him up because I didn't fancy being slit up like a codfish with this thing," and I drew the claspknife--a regular sailor's "gully"--from my coat pocket and tossed it, open, upon the table.

Mother screamed and shuddered, and sank back into her chair again.

"You needn't be scared," I said, more tenderly, crossing to her side and putting my arm across her shoulders. "I'm not hurt at all. He only slit my coat sleeve!"

Mr. Downes glanced from his son's swollen and disfigured face to my flapping coatsleeve, and fear came into his own countenance. He knew something about the ungovernable rages into which Paul frequently flew.

He was obliged to wet his lips with s tongue before he could speak:

"You will not believe this horrible, scandalous story, Mary!

Why--why--The boy is beside himself!"

"I think Paul was," I said, gravely. "We were both angry--I admit that.

But I used nothing but my fists on him."

"Paul! Why don't you speak up and deny this charge?"

"I--I never struck him with the knife," said my cousin, sullenly.

"He--he tied my arms and then he--he slit the coat himself. I--I never touched him."

He lied so clumsily that even my innocent and horrified mother could not believe him. But Mr. Dowries tried to make out that he believed Paul.

"Listen to that, Mary!" he bl.u.s.tered. "Did you ever hear of such depravity--such viciousness? A plot to ruin my boy in your eyes--a cowardly plot!"

"It is no plot, Mr. Downes, and you know it," I said. "But I am going to use the circ.u.mstance to a purpose which for some time I have longed to accomplish. You and Paul will leave my mother's house--and leave it at once!"

"Clinton!" gasped mother, seizing my hand.

"There, Madam!" cried Mr. Downes, furiously. "He has just as good as admitted it is a conspiracy. Nefarious! He has invented this story----"

"Mr. Downes," I interrupted, my anger rising, "you have done everything you could to prejudice mother against me. Is it any wonder that I desire to see the last of you and your precious son?"

"Clinton! Clinton! My dear son," mother begged. "Don't be so pa.s.sionate."

"I never was more calm in my life," I responded, firmly. "But these two shall not stay in our house another night, mother."

She burst into tears. Mr. Downes stepped nearer and his sneering look would have enraged me at another time. But I felt that I had the whip-hand and held myself in.

"Fortunately," he said, "your will, young man, is not law here. It is not in your power to put us out of your mother's home."

"You are mistaken," I replied, still quietly. "I have that power."

"You are a minor, sir," said Mr. Downes, loftily. "I brand your ridiculous story as false. It would be quite within your character to have cut your coat sleeve as Paul says. I will not even believe that that is his knife----"

He stretched out his hand to take it from the table but I was too quick for him. "No, you don't!" I said. "That is too valuable a bit of evidence for you to get hold of. Even Paul will not deny owning the knife. I know where he bought it and I can find the man who engraved his initials on the blade."

"Very well planned indeed," sneered Mr. Downes, but I sternly interrupted:

"Mr. Downes, again I tell you that you _must_ leave this house. You and Paul shall never again live under the same roof with me."