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Updated: June 2, 2025
The one-eyed seaman, whose appearance he had previously marked, stood almost at his elbow and confronted the girl. She stepped back to avoid the seaman, and her foot caught in a coil of rope. For a moment she swayed on the verge of the dock then Drew's hand shot out, and he caught her arm, steadying her.
But his blood was up, and before Drew's menacing attitude he would not retract. "You can put any construction on it that you please," he flared. Just then Tyke and the captain came hurrying up. "Come, come, boys," said the captain soothingly, "keep cool." "What's the trouble with you two young roosters?" queried Tyke. They looked a little sheepish. "Just a little misunderstanding," muttered Drew.
Then came Shakespeare, a shilling edition of Keats, Drew's "Conic Sections," Hall's "Differential Calculus," Baker's "Land Surveying," Carlyle's "Heroes," a fat volume of Shelley, "The Antiquary," White's "Selborne," Bonnycastle's "Algebra," and five volumes of "The Tales of the Borders." "You have a capital lot of books, my man. I suppose you know them all by heart, pretty well?"
Drew's previous experience with mules had not been as a rider. He had heard plenty about their sure-footedness, their ability to keep going as pack animals and wagon teams when horses gave out, their intelligence, as well as that stubbornness which lay on the darker side of the scales.
"Drink?" "Nope. I said I came on business." "What kind?" "Bard." "I thought so." "I want a posse." "What's he done?" "Killed Calamity Ben at Drew's place, started a fire that near burned the house, and lifted Duffy's hoss." Glendin whistled softly. "Nice little start." "Sure, and it's just a beginnin' for this Bard." "I'll go out to Drew's place and see what he's done."
He had no time to pursue the thought, however, for at that moment he heard the clang of a gong, and an ambulance came dashing out on the pier just as the moorings of the Bertha Hamilton were about to be cast off. Drew's first thought was that an accident had happened, and he hurried over to the starboard rail.
Arriving a stranger in Westhaven the winter before, among Victoria Drew's first acquaintances were Dorothy McClain and her six brothers. Their father was the leading physician in Westhaven and an old friend of her aunt and uncle. They were neighbors as well. In the beginning Tory had believed she preferred Lance to any of the other boys.
Sixteen to nine! Nearly two to one! And men who would fight desperately because in joining this mutiny they knew that they stood in peril of the hangman's noose or the electric chair. Drew's resolution hardened. The fire cast a wide zone of light on the beach and the surrounding water. But over the eastern end of the lagoon darkness hung heavily.
Drew's maiden aunt, prim, proper and worldly-wise, was as much Aunt Sally to Filmer as she was to her niece and nephew. Jock jollied the aristocratic lady as freely as he did Drew, toward whom he held the tolerant admiration that he had given him from the beginning. But poor Jock was not to have his own easy planning of the new situation in all directions.
The tears started to Drew's eyes, which filled, as he caught his friend's hands in his, and the next moment the big drops began trickling down. "There," he said quietly, "I'm crying like a great girl. I can't help it when I think about her. I always was a weak, passionate, hysterical sort of fellow, Frank, and I'm worse than ever now with all this strain.
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