Ike Barry, of the big heart, was astonished at my good day's work for him, and wanted to reciprocate. I told him to hustle the goods on promptly and that would be enough for my time and trouble. Then I inquired:
"Who is the pink-cheeked, deep-waisted Teuton individual—the comparatively new addition—is he part of the mystery about Bulow and Company?" I asked casually.
"Mystery is right!" he replied softly. "I don't know for sure. Wasn't much interested, in fact. I think it's like this. When old Bulow died the business was incorporated by the heirs, and then this fellow shows up with a big say, executively. The manager jumps when he sneezes. The change didn't affect their credit and that's all that interests me. However, I can find out easily enough, and will let you know."
"Do that, Ike, and I will call it square for getting you a new customer," but that night I found a hundred good Havanas in my room. Afterward I put on working clothes and went down to the dock to find Scotty. He was working on his engine, the cylinder heads off, getting ready for a big run the next day. I fell to and helped him, enabling me to better examine the cutter—and talk with him. Scotty was covered with sweat, grease and indignation.
"There's something coming off to-morrow, and it beats hell that I can't find out just what it is. This boat goes out to-morrow and I don't go with it, for the first time. A greasy piece of German cheese from one of the big steamers is going to run her so what in the devil do you suppose they are up to?" he asked, wrathful and caustic.
I looked surprised and glanced about.
"No, they're gone now but they've been working on her most all day. Do you see that plate bolted to the deck aft? They think they're fooling me, but that is a base for mounting a five-inch gun. They put that in place to-day. Now, why do they want a gun on this craft? And rifles were brought aboard. They're here now; want to see 'em?"
"All the English and American cargo and passenger ships are mounting guns for defense now," I suggested, but he shook his head negatively.
"This is no cargo boat. She's less than a hundred feet over all. We only take a little freight to fishermen at the Bermudas and bring in hides and sponges. We don't go where there's submarines. No—there's something else and I believe it has a lot to do with this man Canby. They're bitter against him. The manager and that tub of tallow, with his left hand still in bandage, was aboard this afternoon. I couldn't hear all they said and they talked German, which I don't understand much. I did hear Canby's name and hear 'em swear. I tell you they are up to some deviltry."
We adjusted the gasket, replaced the heavy cylinder head, and began bolting it down, both silent for some minutes.