Billy Topsail & Company: A Story for Boys

Billy nodded shortly.

“Now, Billy Topsail,” Skipper Bill went on, “I fear you’ve never read the chapter on’ Wreck an’ Salvage’ in the ‘Consolidated Statutes o’ Newfoundland.’ So I’m going t’ tell you some things you don’t know. Now, listen careful! By law, b’y,” tapping the boy on the breast with a thick, tarry finger, “if they’s nobody aboard a stranded vessel–if she’s abandoned, as they say in court–the men who find her can have her and all that’s in her. That’s pretty near the law o’ the land–near enough for you, anyway. Contrary, by law, b’y,” with another impressive tap, “if they is one o’ the crew aboard, he’s a right to shoot down any man who comes over the side against his will. That’s exactly the law. Do you follow?”

“But I’ve no mind for shootin’ at so good-natured a man,” said Billy, recalling the fisherman’s broad grin.

“An’ I hope you won’t have to,” said the skipper. “But they’s no harm in aiming an empty gun anywhere you’ve a mind to. So far as I know, they’s no harm in firin’ away a blast or two o’ powder if you forget t’ put in the shot.”

Billy laughed.

“Billy, boy,” said Archie, tremulously, “it’s up to you to save the firm of Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company.”

“All right, Archie,” said Billy.

“I know it’s all right,” Archie declared.

“They’s just two things to remember,” said the skipper, from the bow of the punt, before casting off. “The first is to stay aboard; the second is to let nobody else come aboard if you can help it. ’Tis all very simple.”

“All right, skipper,” said Billy.

“Topsail–Armstrong–Grimm–and– Company,” were the last words Billy Topsail heard; and they came from Archie Armstrong.

CHAPTER XXXII

In Which the “Grand Lake” Conducts Herself In a Most Peculiar Fashion to the Chagrin of the Crew of the “Spot Cash”

Skipper Bill and the punt of the stranded Spot Cash made the harbour at Hook-and-Line in good season to intercept the Grand Lake. She was due–she would surely steam in–that very day, said the men of Hook-and-Line. And it seemed to Archie Armstrong that everything now depended on the Grand Lake. It would be hopeless–Skipper Bill had said so and the boys needed no telling–it would be hopeless to attempt to get the Spot Cash off Blow-Me-Down Rock in an unfriendly harbour without the steamer’s help.

“’Tis fair hard t’ believe that the Jolly Harbour folk would give us no aid,” said Jimmie Grimm.

Skipper Bill laughed. “You’ve no knowledge o’ Jolly Harbour,” said he.

“’Tis a big expense these robbers are putting us to,” Archie growled.

“Robbers?” Bill drawled. “Well, they’re a decent, God-fearin’ folk, with their own ideas about a wreck.”

Archie sniffed.

“I’ve no doubt,” the skipper returned, “that they’re thankin’ God for the windfall of a tradin’ schooner at family worship in Jolly Harbour at this very minute.”

This view expressed small faith in the wits of Billy Topsail.

“Oh, Billy Topsail will stand un off,” Jimmie Grimm stoutly declared.

“I’m doubtin’ it,” said the frank skipper.

“Wh-wh-what!” Archie exclaimed in horror.

“I’m just doubtin’ it,” the skipper repeated.

This was a horrifying confession; and Archie Armstrong knew that Skipper Bill was not only wise in the ways of the French Shore but was neither a man to take a hopeless view nor one needlessly to excite anxiety. When Bill o’ Burnt Bay admitted his fear that Billy Topsail had neither the strength nor the wit to save the Spot Cash from the God-fearing folk of Jolly Harbour, he meant more than he said. The affairs of Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company seemed to be in a bad way. It was now more than a mere matter of liquidating an obligation on the first of September; the problem was of liquidating it at all.

“Wisht the Grand Lake would ’urry up,” said Bagg.

“I’d like t’ save some splinters o’ the schooner, anyway,” the skipper chuckled, in a ghastly way, “even if we do lose the cargo.”

It occurred all at once to Archie Armstrong that Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company were not only in obligation for the debt to Armstrong & Company but were responsible for a chartered craft which was not insured.

“A thousand dollars–a cold thousand dollars–and the Spot Cash!” he exclaimed, aghast.

“Wisht she’d ’urry up,” Bagg repeated.

Archie, pacing the wharf, his hands deep in his pockets, his face haggard and white, recalled that his father had once told him that many a man had been ruined by having too large a credit. And Archie had had credit–much credit. A mere boy with a thousand dollars of credit! With a thousand dollars of credit in merchandise and coin and the unquestioned credit of chartering a schooner! He realized that it had been much–too much. Somehow or other, as he feverishly paced the wharf at Hook-and-Line, the trading venture seemed infinitely larger and more precarious than it had in his father’s office on the rainy day when the lad had so blithely proposed it. He understood, now, why it was that other boys could not stalk confidently into the offices of Armstrong & Company and be outfitted for a trading voyage.

His father’s faith–his father’s indulgent fatherhood–had provided the all-too-large credit for his ruin.

“Wisht she’d ’urry up,” Bagg sighed.

“Just now,” Archie declared, looking Skipper Bill in the eye, “it’s up to Billy Topsail.”

“Billy’s a good boy,” said the skipper.

Little Donald North–who had all along been a thoroughly serviceable but inconspicuous member of the crew–began to shed unwilling tears.

“Wisht she’d ’urry up,” Bagg whimpered.

“There she is!” Skipper Bill roared.

It was true. There she was. Far off at sea–away beyond Grief Head at the entrance to Hook-and-Line–the smoke of a steamer surely appeared, a black cloud in the misty, glowering day. It was the Grand Lake. There was no other steamer on the coast. Cap’n Hand–Archie’s friend, Cap’n Hand, with whom he had sailed on the sealing voyage of the stout old Dictator– was in command. She would soon make harbour. Archie’s load vanished; from despair he was lifted suddenly into a wild hilarity which nothing would satisfy but a roaring wrestle with Skipper Bill. The Grand Lake would presently be in; she would proceed full steam to Jolly Harbour, she would pass a line to the Spot Cash, she would jerk the little schooner from her rocky berth on Blow-Me-Down, and presently that selfsame wilful little craft would be legging it for St. John’s.

But was it the Grand Lake?

“Lads,” the skipper declared, when the steamer was in view, “it sure is the Grand Lake.”

They watched her.

“Queer!” Skipper Bill muttered, at last.

“What’s queer?” asked Archie.

“She should be turnin’ in,” the skipper replied. “What’s Cap’n Hand thinkin’ about?”

“Wisht she’d ’urry up,” said Bagg.

The boys were bewildered. The steamer should by this time have had her nose turned towards Hook-and-Line. To round Grief Head she was keeping amazingly far out to sea.

“Wonderful queer!” said the anxious skipper.

The Grand Lake steamed past Hook-and-Line and disappeared in the mist. Evidently she was in haste. Presently there was not so much as a trail of smoke to be descried at sea.