many tomorrows had come and gone before skippy saw his father again and then it was under circumstances that the lonely boy had not contemplated. the shadow of prison walls already threatened toby dare for the rest of his natural life; conviction was certain.
skippy returned to the minnie m. baxter toward noon. it threatened to be a sultry day; the air was heavy and still, and a sickening blue haze hung over the inlet. brown’s basin, always more or less apathetic under the glare of noonday, was unusually silent and skippy listened in vain for the cheering sound of a human voice.
he set about preparing lunch, but it was a half-hearted, pathetic attempt, for the dare larder was getting dangerously bare. he had been living on an almost exclusive diet of pancakes for more than a week past and nature was beginning to retaliate for skippy was far from being a robust boy.
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he pushed back his plate after a time, hurried out of the cabin and got into his motor boat. it was his only consolation during the interminable days and nights of his father’s continued absence and on this particular day his heart warmed toward it with a new, affectionate thought.
his fishing tackle was assembled at his feet and he set the nose of the little boat downstream as soon as he reached the river. fog horns pierced the still, hazy air with their dismal warnings and the screams of steam winches and tooting whistles echoed and reechoed about the boy’s tousled head.
he watched the passing river traffic abstractedly, particularly the lumbering and heavily-laden barges moving along in the wake of chortling tugs. the sight of them always made him think of his father and of what might have been, and the more he saw of them the more did the feeling grow within him that it was a strange and unjust law that could take his father away from him. moreover, he could not understand why a jury would not believe his father’s straightforward story, which proved so clearly to him that another hand had taken josiah flint’s life.
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hadn’t the police found that the rich man had been robbed of a considerable sum of money and hadn’t they admitted that it was neither on toby’s person nor on the barge? skippy remembered only too well the day when the police ransacked the minnie m. baxter fore and aft for josiah flint’s money. but their search was futile, as he knew it would be, and although they now had ample proof that poverty threatened him, they still insisted that the stolen money had been hidden by his unhappy father.
but skippy did not consider the testimony of marty skinner that he, on returning to his employer’s stateroom, saw toby dare with his arm out the porthole (from which a clever and venomous prosecuting attorney drew the inference for the jury that toby was disposing of the pistol from which the fatal shot was fired). skinner did not swear he saw any weapon, but his testimony, linked with the other evidence, made for a strong circumstantial case.
skinner also testified that he had rushed to his employer’s side as toby raced from the room; that upon discovering that josiah flint had been shot he chased after the squatter and shouted to him, as he made off in his kicker, to no avail. the second mate corroborated the testimony that toby failed to heed the cries for him to halt.
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while the pistol had not been found, inspector jones and his men testified that toby had threatened to fix josiah flint because he felt he had been cheated of his life savings of $300 in buying a rotten barge from flint. that, the prosecutor insisted to the jury, furnished the motive for the crime. altogether he made a case which convinced the twelve men, but it did not convince skippy for he could not be convinced that his father was guilty.
skippy was deep in his bitter reflections and did not see the familiar launch of the harbor inspectors until it was almost upon him. inspector jones’ bright and smiling face came alongside of him with startling suddenness.
“well, skippy!” he said pleasantly. “how’s the boy?”
skippy winced and a frown darkened his face. he could not forget that inspector jones’ testimony had helped to take his father from him.
“i feel sick on accounta my pop, that’s what,” said he bitterly. “you helped make things worse for him too, mr. jones, on account of the things you told about what he said that day after you inspected the minnie m. baxter.”
inspector jones’ bland countenance looked immediately troubled.
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“i told the truth, skippy,” he said kindly. “i told only what your father had said and my men were there to prove it.”
“you needn’t have said that pop said he was gonna fix mr. flint ’cause you mighta known he really didn’t mean it. pop was mad then, but he promised me before we left for the apollyon that night that he wouldn’t lose his head. gee, he’s even sworn since he didn’t take mr. flint’s life an’ don’t you suppose i know when my pop’s tellin’ the truth?”
“i guess so,” inspector jones answered with real feeling in his voice; “i guess you know your pop better than anybody, skippy. i’m sorry, the law required me to testify against him. but it was my duty—can’t you see?”
“then you believe they’ll be keepin’ my pop in jail when he’s innocent, too, huh?” skippy asked excitedly.
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“i’m rather inclined to believe that your father didn’t shoot flint,” answered the inspector. “but i can’t do anything about it, skippy, and i doubt if my testimony alone would convict him. it’s that district-attorney and marty skinner that’s made it so tough for your father. you know skinner swore he saw toby at the porthole and the d. a. put it over to the jury that he was dropping the gun which did the job.”
“yeah, but that diver didn’t find no gun,” skippy replied, “an’ my pop swore he wasn’t near no porthole an’ besides nobody tried findin’ out about that kicker that was around when we come up. i’ll betcha the feller what did the killin’ got away in it.”
“you’re right about not finding the gun, skippy,” inspector jones nodded thoughtfully. “i’ll look into the kicker angle some more.”
“say, thanks, mr. jones, me’n pop we’d be so thankful, we would. maybe if i went to see mr. skinner he’d help us ’cause i guess hard as he is he’ll see i don’t tell lies even to get my pop free. maybe i oughta go right away to see him, huh?”
inspector jones nodded thinking how futile the boy’s errand would be. but he had boys of his own and he did not want to jolt the lad out of his pleasant dream. so all he said was: “the sooner the better, because i hear he’s going on the apollyon for a week’s cruise. you know buck flint has gone to europe and now skinner, who was only josiah flint’s yes-man for years, is ruling the roost and living high on a millionaire’s yacht. buck says he won’t ever board her so it’s pretty soft for skinner. he’s got the boat anchored just outside in the bay, ready to nose her out to sea after nightfall. if you get right on down there, you’ll catch him aboard, sure.”
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skippy smiled his thanks and turned his little motor over. the inspector waved his hand.
“from the sound of that kicker,” he shouted, “i take it you’ve lost toby’s muffler?”
“sure,” skippy answered laughing, “what do i need with a muffler, huh? ’cepting it might be better for fishin’ with. but gee, i should worry about livin’ on fish if i can see mr. skinner, huh? pop ought to be out by—by....”
“tomorrow, eh?” inspector jones interposed turning his head aside and blowing his nose hard.
“nope,” skippy answered wistfully, “i won’t say tomorrow ’cause then—oh well, it’s too quick. but anyway, if i see mr. skinner it won’t be long after tomorrow, i bet.”
he had yet to learn from his bitter experience that tomorrow never comes.
