Kindred of the Dust | Page 6

granddaughter, I presume?" he addressed Caleb Brent.
"No; my daughter, sir. I was forty when I married, and Nan came ten
years later. She's thirteen now, and her mother's been dead ten years."
Hector McKaye had an idea that the departed mother was probably just
as well, if not better, off, free of the battle for existence which appeared
to confront this futile old man and his elf of a daughter. He glanced at
the embryo shack under construction and, comparing it with his own
beautiful home on Tyee Head, he turned toward the bight. A short
distance off the bulkhead, he observed a staunch forty-foot
motor-cruiser at anchor. She would have been the better for a coat of
paint; undeniably she was of a piece with Caleb Brent and Nan, for,
like them, The Laird had never seen her before.
"Yours?" he queried.
"Yes, sir."
"You arrived in her, then?"
"I did, sir. Nan and I came down from Bremerton in her, sir."
The Laird owned many ships, and he noted the slurring of the "sir" as
only an old sailor can slur it. And there was a naval base at Bremerton.
"You're an old sailor, aren't you, Brent?" he pursued.

"Yes, sir. I was retired a chief petty officer, sir. Thirty years' continuous
service, sir--and I was in the mercantile marine at sixteen. I've served
my time as a shipwright. Am--am I intruding here, sir?"
The Laird smiled, and followed the smile with a brief chuckle.
"Well--yes and no. I haven't any title to this land you've elected to
occupy, although I created it. You see, I'm sort of lord of creation
around here. My people call me 'The Laird of Tyee,' and nobody but a
stranger would have had the courage to squat on the Sawdust Pile
without consulting me. What's your idea about it, Brent?"
"I'll go if you want me to, sir."
"I mean what's your idea if you stay? What do you expect to do for a
living?"
"You will observe, sir, that I have fenced off only that portion of the
dump beyond high-water mark. That takes in about half of it--about an
acre and a half. Well, I thought I'd keep some chickens and raise some
garden truck. This silt will grow anything. And I have my launch, and
can do some towing, maybe, or take fishing parties out. I might supply
the town with fish. I understand you import your fish from Seattle--and
with the sea right here at your door."
"I see. And you have your three-quarters pay as a retired chief petty
officer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Anything in bank? I do not ask these personal questions, Brent, out of
mere idle curiosity. This is my town, you know, and there is no poverty
in it. I'm rather proud of that, so I--"
"I understand, sir. That's why I came to Port Agnew. I saw your son
yesterday, and he said I could stay."
"Oh! Well, that's all right, then. If Donald told you to stay, stay you
shall. Did he give you the Sawdust Pile?"
"Yes, sir; he did!"
"Well, I had other plans for it, Brent; but since you're here, I'll offer no
objection."
Nan now piped up.
"We haven't any money in bank, Mr. Laird, but we have some saved
up."
"Indeed! That's encouraging. Where do you keep it?"
"In the brown teapot in the galley. We've got a hundred and ten

dollars."
"Well, my little lady, I think you might do well to take your hundred
and ten dollars out of the brown teapot in the galley and deposit it in
the Port Agnew bank. Suppose that motor-cruiser should spring a leak
and sink?"
Nan smiled and shook her golden head in negation. They had beaten
round Cape Flattery in that boat, and she had confidence in it.
"Would you know my boy if you should see him again, Nan?" The
Laird demanded suddenly.
"Oh, yes, indeed, sir! He's such a nice boy."
"I think, Nan, that if you asked him, he might help your father build
this house."
"I'll see him this afternoon when he comes out of high school," Nan
declared.
"You might call on Andrew Daney, my general manager," The Laird
continued, turning to Caleb Brent, "and make a dicker with him for
hauling our garbage-scow out to sea and dumping it. I observe that
your motor-boat is fitted with towing-bitts. We dump twice a week.
And you may have a monopoly on fresh fish if you desire it. We have
no fishermen here, because I do not care for Greeks and Sicilians in
Port Agnew. And they're about the only fishermen on this coast."
"Thank you, Mr. McKaye."
"Mind you don't abuse your monopoly. If you do, I'll take it away from
you."
"You are