CHAPTER XXIV MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY
"Well, I never thought I'd come to this in an oyster-boat," said the shipper. "We might have been in real trouble if that steamer hadn't happened along."
Alec thought they were in real trouble as it was. "I wonder where the Lycoming will take us," he said.
"By George! We must attend to that at once. We don't want to be towed clear off to New York. Call up the captain, Alec, and see if he won't tow us into the Cape May harbor."
Alec hurried to the cabin and called Roy. Then he explained the situation. After a time he got an answer. The Lycoming would tow the Rebecca to the Cape May harbor, but a tug would be needed to take the schooner into the harbor itself. Roy said he would try to arrange for the tug. Alec listened in while Roy was talking with Cape May. Finally Roy called Alec again and said that a tug would meet them. In little more than an hour's time the Lycoming was nearing Cape May. The tug came alongside and made fast to the Rebecca. Then the tow-line was cast off, good-byes were called, Captain Rumford sent his thanks and good wishes to Captain Lansford of the Lycoming, and finally Alec wired a grateful message to Roy from the party on the Rebecca. The big steamer moved off into the darkness, the tug began to puff busily, and before another hour passed, the Rebecca lay safe and still within the harbor. Next day temporary repairs were made to the Rebecca's rudder, and before night the oyster-boat lay snug at her own pier at Bivalve.
The pleasure trip had been a great success—all but the very end of it; and very little harm had come of that. Excepting for the rudder, which was quickly replaced, not a thing was damaged on the little boat. The greatest injury came to the captain's pocketbook. Tug hire and the cost of repairs made the outing expensive. But so long as they had come home in safety, the shipper did not complain.
By the time the Rebecca was in commission again the oyster season was at hand. Orders began to appear for oysters. As was usual at the beginning of the season, there were too few oyster orders to pay the expenses of operating. Some shippers did not start their boats promptly; but Captain Rumford had built up his big business as much by providing service as by selling good oysters. It was his idea that as an oyster merchant it was up to him to provide oysters whenever they were in season. So the Bertha B started promptly.
Now it seemed as though misfortune had marked the shipper for her very own; as though, balked of her prey on that stormy day in August, she meant to pursue the shipper until she got him. An unbroken succession of little accidents occurred on the Bertha B. Now a dredge was lost and valuable time consumed in grappling for it. Now a propeller blade was snapped off by something in the water—perhaps the submerged remains of an oyster stake. Then a piston-rod in the engine broke. One mishap followed another. And it required both time and money to repair each. The shipper's repair bill alone made him look serious.
But bad luck did not end there. From the very start it was evident that it was to be a poor year for oysters. The shipper's boat worked long hours and caught relatively few oysters. As more orders came in, other boats were put in commission. The result was the same. Day after day the boats came in with only half loads. Nor was this situation peculiar to Captain Rumford. Few, indeed, were the shippers who had many oysters that year. In his shallow water beds, or such of them as contained oysters old enough to dredge, the captain got a fair catch. But all the profit he made from these beds, and more too, was eaten up by the expense of working his deep water beds. So far as he could, the shipper took his oysters from his inner beds. But these had been dredged so close in the humming oyster seasons just past, and did not begin to contain as many oysters as the shipper needed.
What was worse, when he had taken the present season's crop from these inner beds, there would be no more to dredge for three years. For these were the beds he had seeded in the spring—these and the new bed far out that Captain Flint had seeded so heavily and that Hardy had tried to raid. Week after week the oyster-boats continued their work, and with every week the captain found himself a poorer man. But there was nothing to do but go on—to borrow money, if necessary, and then borrow more and more. If he expected to retain his customers for future years when oysters were plentiful and profitable again, he must carry his load of loss now. And of course the captain went on.
He was not a superstitious man, was Captain Rumford, but like all sailors he came near to being one. It seemed to him that the loss of Captain Bagley was directly connected with his misfortunes; as though that loss were the first link in a chain of misfortune. Close on Bagley's loss had come the accident to the Rebecca. Then had followed a big string of accidents to Bagley's old ship. Of course, big Jim Hawley, the new commander, was in no way responsible for these, and yet it almost seemed as though there was a direct connection between his coming aboard and these accidents. What Captain Rumford forgot was the fact that the Bertha B, like the one-hoss shay, had reached a point where she was almost ready to go to pieces. She was the oldest boat in the captain's fleet. She had seen continuous service for dozens of years. Her engine was the very oldest in use among the oyster-boats. Nothing can wear forever, and the Bertha B was reaching the point where she would have to be laid on the shelf. It was big Jim Hawley's misfortune that he assumed command of her at that particular moment.
Had Captain Rumford only thought of it, he could have balanced a whole string of fortunate events against this string of unfortunate ones; and these had begun with the coming of Alec. The largest bead in this string was the fact of their rescue on the Rebecca. There were other beads that at present Captain Rumford failed to note at all, or even to understand that they were pieces of good fortune, as, for example, Alec's survey of the oyster waters. In good time, however, he was to see that matter in its true light.
As for Alec, he had never toiled so hard in his life. A year of unremitting labor had taught him how to work. Not only was he able to hold himself rigidly to his tasks, but he could accomplish more in a given time than he had ever done before. Nor was that strange. He was merely acquiring the skill that comes of practice. For now Alec felt like an old hand in the oyster business. He had passed a full year as an oysterman. He had seen every phase of the oyster business. He had learned as many actual facts about oystering as almost anybody at Bivalve knew; and he had acquired many that most of his fellow oystermen would never understand. What he still lacked was the wisdom that comes from long experience. Only time could give him that. Yet he was a generation ahead of his fellow oystermen. He was the first of the oyster pioneers of the new school.
Hard, indeed, must have been the luck that followed the Bertha B, when with two men like Alec and Captain Hawley aboard her she was still a failure. For Captain Hawley was a new Hawley, indeed. He still had all his old strength and courage, all his innate good-nature, all his deep knowledge of oystering as it had been practiced. And he had more. He had been recreated. His ambition had been again aroused. He had been fired afresh with the determination to climb up in the oyster business. His unexpected elevation to the captaincy of a ship had stimulated and aroused him to the utmost. His association with Alec had brought out the best that was in him. And these two comrades, Alec and Captain Jim, worked to make things go for the shipper, as few men ever worked for another. They drove the ship, they drove the crew—by example rather than compulsion—they made everything work as close to one hundred per cent. efficiency as is humanly possible—and yet they failed. No matter what the obstacles, they could have dredged the oysters, had there been oysters to dredge; but they could not make oysters.
Again and again Alec went over with Jim the life-history of the oyster, for now Captain Hawley was as eager to learn the real truth about oysters as once he had been indifferent to that truth. In his study of the oyster-beds in future years, Alec knew he would no longer have to work alone. Now they tried to account for the poor yield of oysters. For everywhere the yield was poor. Nobody had a good crop. And more than one shipper saw bankruptcy looming in the offing. Every aspect of oystering Alec and Captain Jim considered as they sat by the cabin fire in the Bertha B at night. The tide, the bottom, the storms, the quantities of seed used. And here Captain Jim's memory was of wonderful help. Apparently he knew all about the weather for years past. Eventually they hit upon the truth. The year in which the present season's catch was planted had been the coldest in a decade. Storm had followed storm. And finally, seed had been scarce.
"I think we have solved it," said Alec at last. "It was too cold for spawning, so there were few larvæ in the water. The storms must have shifted the sand and mud in the bottom and smothered many oysters. On top of all that there were few seed to plant. No wonder there are no oysters this year."
"Alec," said the big sailor, "if what you say is true, and I now believe it is, there won't be many oysters next season, either, or the year after. For we had three cold, stormy springs running."
Alec considered the matter a while. "It will go tough with the shipper," he said, "for this year will clean up his inshore beds pretty well. He can't get anything out of them for three seasons. And I don't believe there'll be many oysters in his other beds. We must think what we can do to help Captain Rumford."
In every way that he could, Alec was assisting the captain. Every day when the Bertha B came in from the oyster grounds, Alec dropped off at the pier and hustled to the office to help the shipper with the office work. And now he was permitted to do some of the bookkeeping. For, with things going so badly on his boats, the shipper had often to be away from his office. There were banks to be visited, merchants to be consulted, ship-chandlers to be seen. His line of credit was worrying the shipper quite as much as his line of boats. For he understood by this time that he would have to operate at a loss for the entire season.
Sometimes there came a dull day when Alec could attend to his shell business. Now that he had lost Hawley as a partner, he had had to employ some one else to gather his shells. He had found a young lad, who was strong and willing to work, and who had given excellent service. Work, rather than workers, was at a premium this season, for already many boats had stopped running, and Alec had to pay no more for his new assistant than he had formerly paid to Hawley. And as he continued to live on the Bertha B, Alec was still able to save several dollars each week. This year he would have all the shells from all the shippers, and he was certain of a good profit. From this he meant to give his helper a generous bonus.
In due time Captain Hardy and his accomplices were tried. Alec had to appear as a witness against them, but he found that he had the moral support of every honest shipper at Bivalve. And this time, true to prediction, Hardy did go to prison, and every one of his pals went with him. Their assault on Alec, and their evident intent to kill him, had as much to do with their getting a prison sentence as the actual theft of oysters did. So it came about that Alec was relieved of the danger of personal injury.
Slowly the winter passed. Daily Alec's admiration for the shipper grew. Now that he was helping with the books, Alec understood how very hard hit the shipper was. He thought he understood the very sober face and the worried look the captain carried. But never a word escaped the captain's lips that would lead any one to think he was in difficulty, and even Alec never guessed the actual truth.
Spring came. This time it was a warm, balmy spring. Earth and water and air warmed up early and stayed warm. If only the oystermen had known it, this was the season of all seasons to put down shells. But the oystermen were in poor condition to do much of anything. There was hardly a man among them who had not lost money. More than one of these almost lost his faith with his money. In consequence, grounds were shelled lighter than they had been in years.
But Alec had not lost his faith nor his determination. Everything that he saw and read and heard tended to increase his belief that scientific oystering would pay as the old rule-of-thumb style of oystering had never paid. And the more he became convinced of that fact, the readier he was to back his judgment with his cash, to bet more and more heavily on himself. To him that hath, the Good Book tells us, shall be given. Alec found it was even so. He had the knowledge. He had the oyster-bed. He had the shells. And with many boats idle, he had ships aplenty at his command. All that he had he risked on the shelling of his beds. He put down bushels where other planters ordinarily planted baskets. And he piled his shells in windrows transversely to the current. Shells by the ton he planted in his bed, stopping only when his money was entirely exhausted. When finally he had to end his efforts, he found that he had shelled his grounds almost to the last rod.
But it had required more courage to do so than Alec had foreseen. He had full confidence in his own judgment, and he had the support of Hawley, but Captain Rumford had stormed and stormed at what he termed Alec's folly. For the shipper had Alec's welfare very much at heart, and to him there seemed very little difference between dumping dollars and dumping shells into that great depth of water. In his own mind he was perfectly certain that Alec had parted with every one of his hard earned dollars that had gone into the shelling of the new bed.
But despite the shipper's opposition, Alec had persevered. Summer found him with an empty pocket, but full of hope. And it found him well toward his twenty-first birthday. But what a different lad he was from the high school boy who had landed at Bivalve only a little less than two years previously. Hard physical labor had broadened and built him up. He was close to the six feet Captain Bagley had predicted for him. He was as powerful as an ox. His courage had grown. His mind had expanded with his body. His determination to climb up had become stronger and stronger. The friendship between Elsa and himself was as solid as a rock. It was founded on mutual respect and confidence. Trust was its corner-stone.
Nor was Elsa the only one who trusted Alec, nor yet the shipper and Alec's immediate friends. Everybody at the oyster wharves had confidence in him. They knew his ambitions. They also knew he would achieve them. Many a man among them would have risked his money on Alec as confidently as Alec had done himself and would have done so gladly. For all money and wealth in the world is won through the efforts of human beings. And far-seeing business men are ever looking for dependable lads to invest in, just as much as they are on the watch for other good bargains to buy. But of all this Alec as yet had little realization. All he understood was that he was keeping faith with himself and other men and that he was slowly but surely forging ahead.