Poor Mans Rock | Page 2

Bertrand W. Sinclair
what security they desired. But behind them
power and authority crept up apace. In two hours they could distinguish
clearly the rig of the pursuing yacht. In another hour she was less than a
mile astern, creeping inexorably nearer.
The man in the sloop could only stand on, hoping for the usual
afternoon westerly to show its teeth.
In the end, when the afternoon was waxing late, the sternward vessel
stood up so that every detail of her loomed plain. She was full
cutter-rigged, spreading hundreds of feet of canvas. Every working sail
was set, and every light air cloth that could catch a puff of air. The
slanting sun rays glittered on her white paint and glossy varnish, struck
flashing on bits of polished brass. She looked her name, the Gull, a
thing of exceeding grace and beauty, gliding soundlessly across a
sun-shimmering sea. But she represented only a menace to the man and
woman in the fish-soiled sloop.
The man's face darkened as he watched the distance lessen between the
two craft. He reached under a locker and drew out a rifle. The girl's
high pinkish color fled. She caught him by the arm.
"Donald, Donald," she said breathlessly, "there's not to be any
fighting."
"Am I to let them lay alongside, hand you aboard, and then sail back to
Maple Point, laughing at us for soft and simple fools?" he said quietly.
"They can't take you from me so easily as that. There are only three of
them aboard. I won't hurt them unless they force me to it, but I'm not so
chicken-hearted as to let them have things all their own way.
Sometimes a man must fight, Bessie."

"You don't know my father," the girl whimpered. "Nor grandpa. He's
there. I can see his white beard. They'll kill you, Donald, if you oppose
them. You mustn't do that. It is better that I should go back quietly than
that there should be blood spilled over me."
"But I'm not intending to slaughter them," the man said soberly. "If I
warn them off and they board me like a bunch of pirates, then--then it
will be their lookout. Do you want to go back, Bessie? Are you
doubtful about your bargain already?"
The tears started in her eyes.
"For shame to say that," she whispered. "Lord knows I don't want to
turn back from anything that includes you, Don. But my father and
grandpa will be furious. They won't hesitate to vent their temper on you
if you oppose them. They are accustomed to respect. To have their
authority flouted rouses them to fury. And they're three to one. Put
away your gun, Donald. If we can't outsail the Gull I shall have to go
back without a struggle. There will be another time. They can't change
my heart."
"They can break your spirit though--and they will, for this," he
muttered.
But he laid the rifle down on the locker. The girl snuggled her hand
into his.
"You will not quarrel with them, Donald--please, no matter what they
say? Promise me that," she pleaded. "If we can't outrun them, if they
come alongside, you will not fight? I shall go back obediently. You can
send word to me by Andrew Murdock. Next time we shall not fail."
"There will be no next time, Bessie," he said slowly. "You will never
get another chance. I know the Gowers and Mortons better than you do,
for all you're one of them. They'll make you wish you had never been
born, that you'd never seen me. I'd rather fight it out now. Isn't our own
happiness worth a blow or two?"

"I can't bear to think what might happen if you defied them out here on
this lonely sea," she shuddered. "You must promise me, Donald."
"I promise, then," he said with a sigh. "Only I know it's the end of our
dream, my dear. And I'm disappointed, too. I thought you had a stouter
heart, that wouldn't quail before two angry old men--and a jealous
young one. You can see, I suppose, that Horace is there, too.
"Damn them!" he broke out passionately after a minute's silence. "It's a
free country, and you and I are not children. They chase us as if we
were pirates. For two pins I'd give them a pirate's welcome. I tell you,
Bessie, my promise to be meek and mild is not worth much if they take
a high hand with me. I can take their measure, all three of them."
"But you must not," the girl insisted. "You've promised. We can't help
ourselves by violence. It would break my heart."
"They'll do that fast enough, once they get you home," he answered
gloomily.
The girl's lips quivered. She sat looking back at the
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