Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast - Page 304/334

And then came the need of more material and more equipment, for the

gigantic job of floating the steamer was still ahead of them.

Mayo felt that he had proved his theory and was now in a position to

enlist the capital that would see them through. He could show a hull

that was sound except for the rent amidships--a hull from both ends of

which the trespassing sea was being evicted. With the money that would

furnish buoying lighters and tugs and the massive equipment for floating

her, he felt that he would be able to convert that helpless mass of junk

into a steamer once more--change scrap-iron into an active value of at

least one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

And when he and Captain Candage had arrived at that hopeful and earnest

belief, following days of tremulous watching of the work the pumps were

doing, the young man went again to the main on his momentous errand.

As they sailed into Limeport, Mayo was a bit astonished to see green on

the sloping hills. He had been living in a waking dream of mighty toil

on Razee; he had almost forgotten that so many weeks had gone past.

When he went ashore in his dory from the schooner, the balmy breath

of spring breathed out to him from budding gardens and the warm breeze

fanned his roughened cheeks.

As he had forgotten that spring had come, so had he forgotten about his

personal appearance. He had rushed ashore from a man's job that was now

waiting for him to rush back to it. He did not realize that he looked

like a cave-man--resembled some shaggy, prehistoric human; his mind was

too full of his affairs on Razee.

When Captain Mayo strode down the main street of Limeport, it troubled

him not a whit because folks gaped at him and turned to stare after him.

He had torn himself from his gigantic task for only one purpose, and

that idea filled his mind.

He was ragged, his hands were swollen, purple, cut, and raw from his

diver's labors, his hair hung upon his collar, and a beard masked his

face. They who thronged the streets were taking advantage of the first

warm days to show their spring finery. The contrast of this rude figure

from the open sea was made all the more striking as he brushed through

the crowds.

Here and there he bolted into offices where there were men he knew and

whom he hoped to interest. He had no fat wallet to exhibit to them this

time. He had only his empty, swollen hands and a wild, eager, stammering

story of what he expected to do. They stared at him, many of them

stupidly, some of them frankly incredulous, most of them without

particular interest. He looked like a man who had failed miserably;

there was nothing about him to suggest success.