# Wild Norene/Chapter 5
### CHAPTER V. The Mate's Order.

THE North Pacific kicks up its heels at times like a wilful youngster overriding parental authority. For the remainder of that day and that night and the day following there was work for Jack Connor to do.
Captain Bill Adams, on deck with his mate, watching the crew as they carried out Connor's orders, listening to the mate's hoarse voice as he bellowed his commands, found himself regretting that he had planned to punish the man; he began wishing he could have Connor for his mate permanently.
There is danger in a blow when the seas run high for a vessel that carries a cargo of lumber lashed to her decks.
Time and time again giant seas boarded the Amingo and threatened to tear away lashings and make every stick of the cargo a peril to the crew and a matter of loss to underwriters.
An afternoon, a night, and a day without sleep, Connor held himself to his work, refusing politely to turn in when the skipper told him he could do so.
Connor relished the work because, for the time being, it took his mind away from other matters.
Señor Guerrero, brave enough, perhaps, on the field of battle when engaged in leading ragged revolutionists against their organized government, was an abject coward now. Seasickness had made of the hero a craven.
He remained below, moaning, longing for the death that did not come.
Sally Wood, too, remained in the small cabin Captain Adams had assigned her, for Sally was not used to the sea. The Chinese cook offered her food and drink, which she refused, and played steward in an attempt to relieve her suffering.
In those two days Connor knew why Wild Norene was so named.
She was on deck when the blow began, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed. She clung to the rail and watched the tumbling sea, glorying in the rushing wind, the dashing spray, running away now and then to escape a wetting. She stood on the deck and watched the man put extra lashings on the lumber, laughed and shrieked like a wild sister of the wind that was raging.
Jack Connor, watching her from afar, felt his admiration grow. She had not spoken to him since the scene that first morning: she had not spoken to Sally Wood at all.
The second night came and the storm fell. Jack Connor turned in, stiff and sore, to sleep the clock around.
He emerged from the cabin in the middle of the next morning, to find the sea dancing in the sunshine. The coast could be seen in the distance.
Behind, smoke pouring from her stacks, followed the Mexican gunboat like a hound on the trail.
Captain Adams laughed as he saw Connor regarding the pursuing vessel.
"Needn't fear her, lad," he said. "You have graver things to fear. You haven't won Wild Norene's love yet, I take it?"
"I haven't spoken to your niece since you blackened me to her."
"You lost time because of the storm, lad, but that's the fortune of war. The days are slipping. We're getting down the coast a bit. The voyage will not last for always."
"It is my affair," Connor said. "You gave me until we made port. Let it rest at that."
Captain Bill was watching the gunboat through his glass.
"She's kicking up a real lot of water," he said, "but that's all she dare do. I scarcely think she'll put a shot across our bows when Old Glory is flying from our stern."
"She can make as good time as the Amingo, sir. You'll not dare go in Mexican waters."
The skipper laughed loudly.
"You don't think I'm going to stay on the high seas forever, do you? I've a bit of cargo to deliver, and it'll be delivered. A measly little gunboat with a Mexican in command can be dodged by the Amingo with a Yankee sailing her, and don't you forget it. I'll turn in now, I guess."
The Amingo was making good time and was on the right course; there was little for Connor to do. Morgan was with others of the crew in the forecastle getting sorely needed sleep after the battle with the gale.
Señor Guerrero came on deck for a time, pale and weak, spoke a few words, and retired again. Connor imagined he did it to see for himself whether the Amingo still was afloat.
And then Norene appeared.
She walked forward, playing with the ship's dog mascot. Presently she turned and made for the bridge.
Connor watched her from the corners of his eyes. She did not go aft; she stopped, started up.
Connor swung his glass up and looked hard to starboard at nothing. When he lowered the glass she was within six feet of him and with a glass of her own was looking back at the Mexican gunboat. She did not appear to recognize his presence.
Connor smiled as he turned his back upon her and again regarded a spot he imagined to be on the horizon. When he looked back she had dropped the glass to her side and was watching the antics of the dog playing with one of the men over the piles of lumber.
Connor wondered whether she had come there to explain by her actions that she did not consider he existed on earth. If she would not recognize his presence, he would recognize hers, he told himself.
He was puzzled how to begin.
A plea for justice would not avail with such a girl as Norene; he had made that before and it had failed. To start an ordinary conversation would mean to be snubbed. He must find some way to startle her, some way to make her answer, to get her to talk.
An idea came to him, an idea so bold that for a moment it held him aghast, then forced him to smile in spite of himself. He would startle Wild Norene as she never had been startled before, he decided.
He took a step nearer her.
"I beg your pardon," he said.
She turned her back on him and made no reply. Raising the glass again, she contemplated the distant shore.
"Pardon me, but passengers are not allowed on the bridge!"
"Passengers!"
She whirled toward him as she spoke, then, realizing she had been betrayed into speaking, flushed and bit her lip.
But Connor was not smiling at her nor sneering at her, was not sarcastic, not angry, not attempting a pleasantry. He was only the courteous, firm officer in temporary charge of a vessel on the high seas.
"Pardon me for mentioning it," he continued. "Perhaps you did not understand about it."
"Not understand—"
She bit her lip and flushed again. Not understand? Wild Norene Adams, who had spent ten years aboard a vessel with Captain Bill, not to understand the simple rules of the sea?
Hot anger flamed within her; her eyes flashed danger signals.
"It is permissible, with the captain's permission, to visit the bridge with himself or another officer, but it is not permitted you to be alone on the bridge with the officer in charge."
"Are you trying to be impertinent?"
"Also, it is forbidden to speak to the bridge officer, madam."
He turned away from her and again contemplated the horizon, trying hard to keep from smiling.
"It happens," she said in scorn, "that I have the run of the ship. I own one-fifth interest in her, if you desire to know it. I think I may stand on the bridge a moment."
He turned toward her again, his face grave.
"It would be the same, madam, if you owned all of her," he said. "An officer in charge of a vessel has responsibilities and certain rights. He can order an owner in irons if that owner makes an attempt to interfere with navigation of the ship."
Her eyes flamed again.
"You'd put me in irons, I suppose?" she asked.
He did smile now.
"I scarcely think it will be necessary," he said. "Now that I have explained, I am sure you'll descend to the deck and observe my orders."
"Your orders!" she exclaimed. "You— You dare to speak to me like this? You—you—dare order me from the bridge of the Amingo as you would a meddlesome tourist on a Japanese liner? You—"
"Ordinary rules of seafaring, my dear madam, that I cannot see fit to disobey," he reminded her. "Pardon me for not accompanying you to the deck; I cannot leave the bridge."
She gasped at him again, then sat on the rail, crooking her feet around a post, folded her hands in her lap, and regarded him, her head held high, the danger signals still in her eyes.
She knew he was laughing at her—that he was attempting to make her talk to him. She had come up on the bridge to punish him by acting as if unaware of his presence, and now she could not retreat and leave to him the victory.
She would remain, and she would ignore him.
He regarded the pursuing gunboat again, looked long at the shore, then turned toward her and pretended surprise.
"I believe I suggested that you descend to the deck, madam," he said.
She looked away from him; made no answer.
"You refuse to obey my order?" he asked.
No answer. She was biting at the corner of her lip to keep from laughing. What could he do now, she wondered.
He turned away from her again.
"Forward!" he cried. "Pass the word to Morgan; tell him to come to the bridge immediately with one of the other men!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The Amingo continued on her way through the wallowing sea. Connor did not look at her again, could not trust himself to do so.
She remained sitting on the rail, trying to keep from laughing. He would speak to her again soon, she supposed, and again she would ignore him and make no answer.
Morgan, rubbing his sleepy eyes, came from the forecastle and made his way aft, another man at his heels. They mounted to the bridge and stood before the mate.
"You wanted us, Mr. Connor?"
"Yes. This young lady refuses to leave the bridge after being ordered to do so. Conduct her to her cabin and lock her in. If she resists, put her in irons!"
Norene's eyes bulged in amazement and she got down from the rail, staring at him, not believing what she had heard, not dreaming he would dare think of going so far.
"I—I beg pardon, sir?" asked Morgan, looking from one to the other.
"You heard my orders? Do as I told you!"
"But—"
"As I told you!" Connor advanced toward him threateningly.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Morgan turned toward her, the other seaman stepping beside him.
"Mate's orders, you go below, miss," Morgan said.
"I'm very comfortable here, thank you."
Morgan was bewildered. Conducting the captain's niece below was something out of the ordinary. He wasn't sure what he should do. But the discipline of the sea is strong—and he had received his orders.
But—
"Lady refuses to go below, sir," he reported to the mate.
"You have your orders!"
Connor's lips were twitching; he did not dare turn and look at them. Through his glass he regarded another spot on the horizon. Morgan scratched his head a moment, then faced Norene again.
"Mate's orders must be obeyed, miss," he said. "Officer says you must go below."
Norene realized the man's predicament and did not care to cause him trouble. It was Connor she wanted to outwit.
"Tell your officer," she replied, "that I was just going. There is much better company in the forecastle."
She started to descend, and Morgan and the other sailor followed her at a respectful distance. On the deck they stopped, while Norene walked across to the rail, leaning against it and kicking out her heels like a girl of ten.
"What th' dev—" Morgan was muttering to himself.
"Morgan!" came the hail from the bridge.
"Aye, sir!"
"I told you to conduct the young lady to her cabin and lock her in. Do so instantly, and fetch me the key."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Morgan and his messmate started slowly across the deck toward her. Orders were orders; if they had been told to throw the Chinese cook overboard they might have done it, and stopped to think of it afterward.
Norene whirled upon them as they advanced, and held out her hands.
"Do as your officer ordered!" she said. "Lock me in my cabin, then take him the key."
Her face was fiery red; she looked once at the bridge, her eyes flashing angry—but Connor was calmly gazing through his glass at the imaginary spot on the horizon.
Morgan and his comrade followed her below, ushered her into her cabin, locked the door, and carried the key up to the mate. In the ears of Wild Norene rang the chuckle she had heard Morgan give as he locked the door:
"Great Salt Lake! Cap'n's niece! And it'll be in th' log!"
Her head held high, her hands clenched, and her arms held rigid at her sides, she stood for a moment and regarded the door they had locked. Then the storm broke.
She was Wild Norene Adams in earnest now. She pounded against the door in her fury, shrieked and screeched, hurled to the floor or against the walls everything movable.
In another woman it would have been old-fashioned hysterics, but in Wild Norene it was anger, pure and simple, rage at herself for having been conquered, not at the man who had conquered her.
The slumbering skipper in the adjoining cabin was awakened when a lamp-bracket crashed against the wall. He sprang to his feet and began pulling on his clothes, his ears assailed by shrieks and cries.
He knew it was Norene's voice. What had happened? What in the name of Neptune, he asked himself, could have happened?
He ran out and pounded on Norene's door. He saw that Señor Guerrero was standing near, aghast at such an outburst. Farther away, Sally Wood had opened a door and was peering out, fright in her face.
"Norene! Girl!" the skipper cried. "What is it? Open the door!"
Another shriek of anger answered him.
"What's the matter? Open the door, girl!"
Another chorus of hysterical screams. Captain Bill stepped back. Another instant and his gigantic bulk crashed against the door's panels and burst them in. He half fell into the tiny cabin.
Norene was standing near a port-hole, her back toward him, stamping her feet, pounding against the thick glass with her tiny fists.
"Norene! What is it, girl?"
She turned as he approached, and he tried to take her in his arms, sudden alarm in his face, for never had he seen Norene in quite such a state before.
But she pushed him away and confronted him, wild anger in her eyes.
"Girl—girl! What is it?" he asked.
"Ask—your mate!" she gasped.
"My mate!" Captain Bill turned and dashed from the cabin and to the deck. He had been aroused from a deep sleep, he had heard Norene screeching as if in fear and anger, he had demanded the reason, and had been told to ask his mate. Had Connor overstepped the bounds of courtesy? Had he dared insult Norene?
Captain Bill's fists were clenched and his breath was coming in angry gasps as he hurried across the deck and mounted to the bridge.
He stopped in astonishment as he reached it. Jack Connor was looking through his glass at the imaginary spot on the horizon. He did not present the appearance of a man who had just quarreled with a woman or insulted her. He was the typical, cool, calm and collected officer on the bridge.
Captain Bill began to feel ridiculous as Connor turned and faced him.
"Up so soon, cap'n?" he asked.
"What's been goin' on here?"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"My niece is down in her cabin shrieking to wake the dead. She woke me, all right! I asked her what was the matter and she said to ask the mate. If you've gone too far—"
"Oh!" Sudden recollection seemed to come to Connor. "She came up here on the bridge, sir. I informed her, courteously, that passengers were not allowed on the bridge."
"Passengers—"
"And asked her politely to leave. She answered me, and I informed her it was against the rules to talk to the bridge officer."
Connor's eyes were twinkling and a smile lurked on his lips as he faced his superior.
"Well?" the captain demanded.
"She refused to go, sir. Mutiny of passenger against rules! I called two of the men and had them lock her in her cabin and fetch me the key."
"You— You what?"
"Yes, sir."
"You did that—to Norene?"
"Yes, sir—fully within my rights, of course, and in a polite and courteous manner. Here is the key, sir."
Captain Bill Adams took the key, but did not take his eyes from the mate's face. Slowly the expression of his own face relaxed, his mouth twitched, then he threw back his head and roared.
"For the love of Neptune!" he cried, and laughed again. "Sent her to her cabin—locked her in—Wild Norene! Great Heaven, how she'll hate you now! Fully within your rights and in a polite and courteous manner, eh? That's good! By Heaven, it's good! Wild Norene! So that's the way you start in to tame her, eh?"
Captain Bill laughed again; Connor searched the horizon once more. A voice behind them—Norene's voice—made them both turn.
"Funny, is it?" she demanded. She had followed her uncle and made her way to the bridge. "Well, are you going to thrash this fine mate of yours? The men could not help it—they had to carry out his orders!"
The captain laughed again, while she stood before him angrily, tapping the floor of the bridge with the toe of one shoe. The captain's laugh died down, and as Norene looked away an instant he winked at Connor.
"Mr. Connor tells me he ordered you to leave the bridge and you refused to go."
"He did—and I did."
"And he called a couple of men and had you locked in your cabin?"
"He did! And it'll be in the log. I went because of the men—they were forced to obey orders. Now thrash this man for me because of his impudence!"
Captain Bill pulled at his mustache.
"My dear Norene," he said, "my officer acted fully within his rights. He wasn't insolent, was he?"
"He was polite enough," she admitted.
"You should have left the bridge when he ordered it," said the captain, trying hard not to laugh. "I cannot punish my mate for abiding by the rules of the sea. And now you've gotten yourself in worse than ever—you've broken your arrest and come up here on deck."
"Uncle!"
"Must have discipline!" said Captain Bill. "You'll have to go back in your cabin until I have time to consider your case. Mr. Connor, I'll take the bridge until you return. Conduct Miss Adams to her cabin. I smashed the door, but you can put a man on guard if you think it necessary."
"Uncle Bill!" she shrieked.
But the captain had turned his back upon her, for no longer could he keep back the chuckles that bubbled to his lips.
"At least," she said, recovering some of her dignity, "take me back yourself, or let me go alone. I do not care to walk across the deck with a man of Mr. Connor's stamp."
Connor's face grew red, and there was an expression of pain in it.
"Miss Adams," he said, "I do not care to accompany you if you think I am unworthy. I see you are bound not to be friends with me. I explained honestly to you once. I spoke lightly of Wild Norene in a low resort, because I did not know you personally then, I thought. But I did know you, only not by name, and a few minutes before I had prohibited mention of you in the same place—because I had met you and admired you, because I loved you from the first—and I'm not ashamed to tell you now, in your uncle's presence."
"This is a part of the taming process, I suppose," she sneered. "Do you think I believe in your love merely because you say you love me? Are you not saying it to escape the punishment my uncle has promised you? Do you think I am that weak-minded?"
"I have told you the truth," he replied, "believe it or not. I'll never mention the subject again—and I'll take whatever punishment your uncle sees fit to give me. But do not say I am unworthy to walk across the deck with you, for I have not lied. I'm a rough sailor, but I've kept myself measurably clean, and what bad habits I have can be corrected easily.
"However, you do not see fit to give me a square deal. I'll not bother you further, Miss Adams. Regarding the present matter, with the captain's permission we'll consider your arrest at an end."
He bowed to her and turned away.
The look in his eyes haunted her. She fought against feeling that his words were true. She wanted to feel that she could condemn this man to his face. Ah—
"A worthy man—you!" she exclaimed. "And just how worthy? Do you know one reason I won't believe you? Do you want to know one reason why I think you are unworthy? What about the girl who became a stowaway? What about the girl who played the piano in that low resort you made your headquarters? Why did she become a stowaway? 'Interested in the mate,' my uncle says. A woman like that—a vile creature like that unsexes herself to follow you when you sail, yet you say you are a worthy man. And you fought with Riney for her—not because I asked you to avenge his insult to me!"
"Stop!" Connor almost yelled the word. "You do not know what you are saying! Sally Wood is a woman in a thousand—a good woman—"
"A good woman—playing the piano there?" she cried, laughing.
"Yes—a good woman!" Connor's eyes blazed at the captain, then he faced Norene again. "Evidently your uncle hasn't been fair. Evidently he didn't tell you this woman's story! It's one to make an honest woman's heart bleed with sympathy for her. 'Interested in the mate,' eh? Cap'n Bill didn't happen to mention which mate, did he?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
There was an expression of guilt in the captain's face, and she had been quick to notice it.
"I wasn't the mate meant," said Connor. "It was Riney, the old mate, she followed aboard, or thought she was following him. She is interested in Riney—and she has the right to be."
"But a woman of that sort—" she began again.
"A woman that is good and honest, and whom any other woman ought to help," he said. "Why not ask your uncle to set you right—to tell you the story? I don't blame you for blaming me if Cap'n Bill led you to believe some things that are not true."
She demanded the story, and Captain Adams told it in a manner that showed he was somewhat ashamed.
Norene said nothing as he concluded, but there was a bit of contempt in her face as she watched her uncle descend to the deck and start toward the cabin to continue his interrupted sleep.
But Captain Adams turned, grinning, and called back at her, sending a parting shot in revenge.
"Better get off that bridge, Norene, or the mate will have you in irons! " he cried.
Her face grew red, and she started to descend without looking at Connor.
"Miss Adams," he called softly as she started, "I meant what I said. I'll bother you no more. I love you—I meant that, too. I've corrected one false idea you had of me, but I shall go no farther. I just wanted you to know I'm perhaps not as bad as you thought, and that Sally Wood was a decent woman, deserving of kindness and sympathy. You're the one woman I've ever looked at a second time—"
She hesitated, then ran swiftly down to the deck, as if afraid to hear more. She did not ask his pardon; did not by word or look express penitence.
But that evening in the moonlight Jack Connor saw her walking the deck with Sally Wood, and Wild Norene had her arm around the other woman's waist.
He did not know how Wild Norene's pride had suffered that day.