Elsie, when she came down to breakfast next morning, was quieter than usual, and to the joking questions of Captain Jerry and Captain Perez, who were curious concerning her “errand” of the previous evening, and who pretended to believe that she had gone to a dance or “time” with some “feller” unknown, she gave evasive, but good-humored replies. Captain Eri was on his usual fishing trip, and after breakfast was over Perez departed to the Barry place, and Jerry to his beloved schoolhouse. The sacrifice, whose impending matrimonial doom had not been mentioned for some time by the trio interested, was gradually becoming his own garrulous self, and his principal topic of conversation recently had been the coming marriage of the “upstairs teacher”—that is, the lady who presided over the grammar grade of the school—and the question of her probable successor. In fact, this question of who the new teacher was to be was the prevailing subject of surmise and conjecture in the village just then.
When Captain Jerry came back to the house he went out to the barn to feed Lorenzo and the hens, and attend to Daniel's toilet. He was busy with the curry-comb when Elsie came in. She seated herself on a box, and watched the performance for a while without speaking. The Captain, who took this part of his duties very seriously, was too intent on crimping Daniel's rather scraggy forelock to talk much. At length Miss Preston broke the silence.
“Captain Jerry,” she said, “you have never told me just where you found grandfather that night when he was taken sick. On the hill back of the post-office, wasn't it?”
“Yes, jest on the top. You see, he'd fell down when he was runnin' to the fire.”
“Captain Eri found him, didn't he?”
“Yep. Whoa there, Dan'l; stand still, can't you? Yes, Eri found him.”
“How was he dressed?”
“Who? John? Oh, he was bareheaded and in his shirtsleeves, jest as he run outdoors when he heard the bell. Queer, he didn't put on that old white hat of his. I never knew him to be without it afore; but a feller's li'ble to forgit 'most anything a night like that was. Did Eri tell you how Perez forgot his shoes? Funniest thing I ever see, that was.”
He began the story of his friend's absent-mindedness, but his companion did not seem to pay much attention to it. In fact, it was evident that her thoughts were somewhere else, for when the Captain asked her a question that plainly called for a negative, she replied “Yes,” very calmly, and didn't seem to know that she had said it. She went into the house soon after and Captain Jerry, after considering the matter, decided that she was probably thinking of Hazeltine. He derived much comfort from the idea.
When he, too, entered the dining room, Elsie said to him:
“Oh, Captain Jerry! Please don't tell the others that I asked about grandfather. They would think that I was worrying, and I'm not, a bit. You won't mention it, will you? Just promise, to please me.”
So the Captain promised, although he did not understand why it was asked of him.
When Captain Eri came home that afternoon, and was cleaning his catch at the shanty, he was surprised to receive a call from Miss Preston.
“Hello!” he exclaimed. “Come to l'arn the trade?”
Elsie smiled, and disclaimed any intention of apprenticeship.
“Captain Eri,” she said, “I want to have a talk with you, a business talk.”
The Captain looked at her keenly. All he said, however, was, “You don't tell me!”
“Yes, I want to talk with you about getting me a position.”
“A position?”
“Yes, I've been thinking a great deal lately, and, now that grandfather seems to be a little better, and I'm not needed to help take care of him, I want to do something to earn my living.”
“Earn your livin'? Why, child alive, you don't need to do that. You ain't a mite of trouble at the house; fact is, I don't know how we'd get along without you, and, as for money, why I cal'late your grandpa ain't so poor but what, if I let you have a little change once in a while, he'd be able to pay me back, when he got better.”
“But I don't want to use your money or his either. Captain Eri, you don't know what he has done for me ever since I was a little girl. He has clothed me and given me an education, and been so kind and good that, now that he is ill and helpless, I simply can't go on using his money. I can't, and I won't.”
The tears stood in the girl's eyes, as she spoke, and the Captain, noticing her emotion, thought it better to treat the matter seriously, for the present at any rate.
“All right,” he said. “'Independence shows a proper sperit and saves grocery bills,' as old man Scudder said when his wife run off with the tin-peddler. What kind of a place was you thinkin' of takin'?”
“I want to get the appointment to teach in the grammar school here. Miss Nixon is going to be married, and when she leaves I want her place—and I want you to help me get it.”
Captain Eri whistled. “I want to know!” he exclaimed. Then he said, “Look here, Elsie, I don't want you to think I'm tryin' to be cur'ous 'bout your affairs, or anything like that, but are you sure there ain't some reason more 'n you've told me of for your wantin' this place? I ain't no real relation of yours, you understand, but I would like to have you feel that you could come to me with your troubles jest the same as you would to your grandpa. Now, honest and true, ain't there somethin' back of this?”
It was only for a moment that Elsie hesitated, but that moment's hesitation and the manner in which she answered went far toward confirming the Captain's suspicions.
“No, Captain Eri,” she said. “It is just as I've told you. I don't want to be dependent on grandfather any longer.”
“And there ain't a single other reason for—Of course, I ought to mind my business, but—Well, there! what was it you wanted me to do? Help you git the place?”
“Yes, if you will. I know Captain Perez has said that you were interested in the town-meetings and helped to nominate some of the selectmen and the school-committee, so I thought perhaps, if you used your influence, you might get the position for me.”
“Well, I don't know. I did do a little electioneerin' for one or two fellers and maybe they'd ought to be willin' to do somethin' for me. Still, you can't never tell. A cat 'll jump over your hands if she knows there's a piece of fish comin' afterwards, but when she's swallowed that fish, it's a diff'rent job altogether. Same way with a politician. But, then, you let me think over it for a spell, and p'raps to-morrow we'll see. You think it over, too. Maybe you'll change your mind.”
“No, I shan't change my mind. I'm ever and ever so much obliged to you, though.”
She started toward the door, but turned impulsively and said, “Oh, Captain Eri, you don't think that I'm ungrateful, do you? You nor Captain Perez nor Captain Jerry won't think that I do not appreciate all your kindness? You won't think that I'm shirking my duty, or that I don't want to help take care of grandfather any longer? You won't? Promise me you won't.”
She choked down a sob as she asked the question.
Captain Eri was as much moved as she was. He hastened to answer.
“No, no, no!” he exclaimed. “Course we won't do no such thing. Run right along, and don't think another word about it. Wait till to-morrer. I'll have a plan fixed up to land that school-committee, see if I don't.”
But all that evening he worked at the model of the clipper, and the expression on his face as he whittled showed that he was puzzled, and not a little troubled.
He came back from his fishing next day a little earlier than usual, changed his working-clothes for his second best suit, harnessed Daniel into the buggy, and then came into the house, and announced that he was going over to the Neck on an errand, and if Elsie wanted to go with him, he should be glad of her company. As this was but part of a pre-arranged scheme, the young lady declared that a ride was just what she needed.
Captain Eri said but little, as they drove up to the “main road”; he seemed to be thinking. Elsie, too, was very quiet. When they reached the fruit and candy shop, just around the corner, the Captain stopped the horse, got down, and went in. When he came out he had a handful of cigars.
“Why, Captain Eri,” said Elsie, “I didn't know that you smoked cigars. I thought a pipe was your favorite.”
“Well, gin'rally speakin', 'tis,” was the answer, “but I'm electioneerin' now, and politics without cigars would be like a chowder without any clams. Rum goes with some kind of politics, but terbacker kind of chums in with all kinds. 'Tain't always safe to jedge a candidate by the kind of cigars he gives out neither; I've found that out.
“Reminds me of a funny thing that Obed Nickerson told me one time. Obed used to be in politics a good deal up and down the Cape, here, and he had consider'ble influence. 'Twas when Bradley up to Fall River was runnin' for Congress. They had a kind of pow-wow in his office—a whole gang of district leaders—and Obed he was one of 'em. Bradley went to git out the cigar-box, and 'twas empty, so he called in the boy that swept out and run errands for him, give the youngster a ten-dollar bill, and told him to go down to a terbacker store handy and buy another box. Well, the boy, he was a new one that Bradley'd jest hired, seemed kind of surprised to think of anybody's bein' so reckless as to buy a whole box of cigars at once, but he went and pretty soon come back with the box.
“The old man told him to open it and pass 'em round. Well, everybody was lookin' for'ard to a treat, 'cause Bradley had the name of smokin' better stuff than the average; but when they lit up and got a-goin', Obed said you could see that the gang was s'prised and some disgusted. The old man didn't take one at fust, but everybody else puffed away, and the smoke and smell got thicker 'n' thicker. Obed said it reminded him of a stable afire more 'n anything else. Pretty soon Bradley bit the end of one of the things and touched a match to it. He puffed twice—Obed swears 'twa'n't more'n that—and then he yelled for the boy.
“'For the Lord's sake!' he says, 'where'd you git them cigars?' Well, it come out that the boy hadn't told who the cigars was for, and he'd bought a box of the kind his brother that worked in the cotton mill smoked. Obed said you'd ought to have seen Bradley's face when the youngster handed him back seven dollars and seventy-five cents change.”
They reached that part of Orham which is called the Neck, and pulled up before a small building bearing the sign “Solomon Bangs, Attorney-at-Law, Real Estate and Insurance.” Here the Captain turned to his companion and asked, “Sure you haven't changed your mind, Elsie? You want that school-teachin' job?”
“I haven't changed my mind, Captain Eri.”
“Well, I wanted to be sure. I should hate to ask Sol Bangs for anything and then have to back out afterwards. Come on, now.”
Mr. Soloman Bangs was the chairman of the Orham school-committee. He was a short, stout man with sandy side-whiskers and a bald head. He received them with becoming condescension, and asked if they wouldn't sit down.
“Why, I've got a little bus'ness I want to talk with you 'bout, Sol,” said the Captain. “Elsie, you set down here, and make yourself comf'table, and Sol and me 'll go inside for a minute.”
As he led the way into the little private office at the back of the building, and seemed to take it for granted that Mr. Bangs would follow, the latter gentleman couldn't well refuse. The private office was usually reserved for interviews with widows whose homestead mortgages were to be foreclosed, guileless individuals who had indorsed notes for friends, or others whose business was unpleasant and likely to be accompanied with weeping or profanity. Mr. Bangs didn't object to foreclosing a mortgage, but he disliked to have a prospective customer hear the dialogue that preceded the operation.
On this occasion the door of the sanctum was left ajar so that Elsie, although she did not try to listen, could not very well help hearing what was said.
She heard the Captain commenting on the late cranberry crop, the exceptionally pleasant weather of the past month, and other irrelevant subjects. Then the perfumes of the campaign cigars floated out through the doorway.
“Let's see,” said Captain Eri, “when's town meetin' day?”
“First Tuesday in December,” replied Mr. Bangs.
“Why, so 'tis, so 'tis. Gittin' pretty nigh, ain't it? What are you goin' to git off the school-committee for?”
“Me? Get off the committee? Who told you that?”
“Why, I don't know. You are, ain't you? Seems to me I heard Seth Wingate was goin' to run and he's from your district, so I thought, of course—”
“Is Seth going to try for the committee?”
“Seth's a good man,” was the equivocal answer.
“A good man! He ain't any better man than I am. What's he know about schools, or how to run 'em?”
“Well, he's pretty popular. Folks like him. See here, Sol; what's this 'bout your turnin' Betsy Godfrey off her place?”
“Who said I turned her off? I've been carrying that mortgage for so long it's gray-headed. I can't be Santa Claus for the whole town. Business is business, and I've got to look out for myself.”
“Ye-es, I s'pose that's so. Still, folks talk, and Seth's got lots of friends.”
“Eri, I ain't denying that you could do a heap to hurt me if you wanted to, but I don't know why you should. I've always been square with you, far's I know. What have you got against me?”
“Oh, nuthin', nuthin'! Didn't I hear you was tryin' to get that Harniss teacher to come down here and take Carrie Nixon's place when she got married?”
“Well, I thought of her. She's all night, isn't she?”
“Yes, I s'pose she is. 'Twould be better if she lived in Orham, maybe, and folks couldn't say you went out of town for a teacher when you could have had one right from home. Then, she's some relation of your cousin, ain't she? 'Course, that's all right, but—well, you can't pay attention to everything that's said.”
“Could have got one right from home! Who'd we get? Dave Eldredge's girl, I suppose. I heard she was after it.”
The conversation that followed was in a lower tone, and Elsie heard but little of it. She heard enough, however, to infer that Captain Eri was still the disinterested friend, and that Solomon was very anxious to retain that friendship. After a while the striking of matches indicated that fresh cigars were being lighted, and then the pair rose from their chairs, and entered the outer office. Mr. Bangs was very gracious, exceedingly so.
“Miss Preston,” he said, “Cap'n Hedge tells me that it—er—might be possible for us—er—for the town to secure—er—to—in short, for us to have you for our teacher in the upstairs room. It ain't necessary for me to say that—er—a teacher from Radcliffe don't come our way very often, and that we—that is, the town of Orham, would—er—feel itself lucky if you'd be willing to come.”
“Of course, I told him, Elsie,” said Captain Eri, “that you wouldn't think of comin' for forty-five dollars a month or anything like that. Of course, 'tisn't as though you really needed the place.”
“I understand, I understand,” said the pompous committeeman. “I think that can be arranged. I really think—er—Miss Preston, that there ain't any reason why you can't consider it settled. Ahem!”
Elsie thanked him, trying her best not to smile, and they were bowed out by the great man, who, however, called the Captain to one side, and whispered eagerly to him for a moment or two. The word “Seth” was mentioned at least once.
“Why, Captain Eri!” exclaimed Elsie, as they drove away.
The Captain grinned. “Didn't know I was such a heeler, did you?” he said. “Well, I tell you. If you're fishin' for eels there ain't no use usin' a mack'rel jig. Sol, he's a little mite eely, and you've got to use the kind of bait that 'll fetch that sort of critter.”
“But I shouldn't think he would care whether he was on the school-committee or not. It isn't such an exalted position.”
Captain Eri's answer was in the form of a parable. “Old Laban Simpkins that lived 'round here one time,” he said, “was a mighty hard ticket. Drank rum by the hogshead, pounded his wife till she left him, and was a tough nut gin'rally. Well, one evenin' Labe was comin' home pretty how-come-you-so, and he fell into Jonadab Wixon's well. Wonder he wa'n't killed, but he wa'n't, and they fished him out in a little while. He said that was the deepest well he ever saw; said he begun to think it reached clear through to the hereafter, and when he struck the water he was s'prised to find it wa'n't hot. He j'ined the church the next week, and somebody asked him if he thought religion would keep him from fallin' into any more wells. He said no; said he was lookin' out for somethin' further on.
“Well, that's the way 'tis with Sol. School-committee's all right, but this section of the Cape nominates a State representative next year.
“I mustn't forgit to see Seth,” he added. “I promised I would, and besides,” with a wink, “I think 'twould be better to do it 'cause, between you and me, I don't b'lieve Seth knows that he's been thinkin' of runnin' for the committee and has decided not to.”
The second member of the school board, John Mullett, was, so the Captain said, a sort of “me too” to Mr. Bangs, and would vote as his friend directed. The third member was Mr. Langworthy, the Baptist minister and, although two to one was a clear majority, Captain Eri asserted that there was nothing like a unanimous vote, and so they decided to call upon the reverend gentleman.
They found him at home, and Elsie was surprised, after the previous interview, to see how differently her champion handled the case. There was no preliminary parley and no beating about the bush. Miss Preston's claim to the soon-to-be-vacant position was stated clearly and with vigor. Also the reasons why she should receive a higher salary than had previously been paid were set forth. It was something of a surprise to Elsie, as it had been to Ralph, to see how highly the towns-people, that is, the respectable portion of them, seemed to value the opinions of this good-natured but uneducated seaman. And yet when she considered that she, too, went to him for advice that she would not have asked of other and far more learned acquaintances, it did not seem so surprising after all.
The clergyman had had several candidates in mind, but he was easily won over to Elsie's side, partly by the Captain's argument, and partly because he was favorably impressed by the young lady's appearance and manner. He expressed himself as being convinced that she would be exactly the sort of teacher that the school required and pledged his vote unconditionally.
And so, as Captain Eri said, the stump-speaking being over, there was nothing to do but to wait for the election, and Elsie and he agreed to keep the affair a secret until she received formal notice of the appointment. This was undoubtedly a good plan, but, unfortunately for its success, Solomon Bangs called upon his fellow in the committee, Mr. Mullett, to inform the latter that he, entirely unaided, had discovered the very teacher that Orham needed in the person of John Baxter's granddaughter. Mr. Mullett, living up to his “me too” reputation, indorsed the selection with enthusiasm, and not only did that, but also told everyone he met, so that Captain Perez heard of it at the post-office the very next afternoon.
The natural surprise of this gentleman and of Captain Jerry at their guest's sudden determination was met by plausible explanations from Captain Eri, to the effect that Elsie was a smart girl, and didn't like to be “hangin' 'round doin' nothin', now that her grandpa was some better.” Elsie's own reason, as expressed to them, being just this, the pair accepted it without further questioning. Neither of them attached much importance to the letter which she had received, although Captain Perez did ask Mrs. Snow if she knew from whom it came.
The lady from Nantucket was not so easily satisfied. At her first opportunity she cornered Captain Eri, and they discussed the whole affair from beginning to end. There was nothing unusual in this proceeding, for discussions concerning household matters and questions of domestic policy were, between these two, getting to be more and more frequent. Mrs. Snow was now accepted by all as one of the family, and Captain Eri had come to hold a high opinion of her and her views. What he liked about her, he said, was her “good old-fashioned common-sense,” and, whereas he had formerly trusted to his own share of this virtue almost altogether, now he was glad to have hers to help out.
The marriage idea, that which had brought the housekeeper to Orham, was now seldom mentioned. In fact, Captain Eri had almost entirely ceased to ruffle Jerry's feelings with reference to it. Mrs. Snow, of course, said nothing about it. But, for that matter, she said very little about herself or her affairs.
It was a curious fact that the lady from Nantucket had never referred, except in a casual way, to her past history. She had never told how she came to answer the advertisement in the Nuptial Chime, nor to explain how so matter-of-fact a person as she was had ever seen that famous sheet. As she said nothing concerning these things, no one felt at liberty to inquire, and, in the course of time, even Captain Perez' lively curiosity had lapsed into a trance.
Mrs. Snow was certain that Elsie's reason for wishing to obtain the position of school-teacher was something more specific than the one advanced. She was also certain that the girl was troubled about something. The root of the matter, she believed, was contained in the mysterious letter. As Captain Eri was of precisely the same opinion, speculation between the two as to what that letter might have contained was as lively as it was unfruitful.
One thing was certain, Elsie was not as she had formerly been. She did her best to appear the same, but she was much more quiet, and had fits of absentmindedness that the Captain and the housekeeper noticed. She had no more evening “errands,” but she occasionally took long walks in the afternoons, and on these walks she evidently preferred to be alone.
Whether Mr. Hazeltine noticed this change in her was a question. The Captain thought he did, but at any rate, his calls were none the less frequent, and he showed no marked objection when Captain Jerry, who now considered himself bound in honor to bring about the union he had so actively championed, brought to bear his artful schemes for leaving the young folks alone. These devices were so apparent that Elsie had more than once betrayed some symptoms of annoyance, all of which were lost on the zealous match-maker. Ralph, like the others, was much surprised at Miss Preston's application for employment, but, as it was manifestly none of his business, he, of course, said nothing.
At the next committee meeting Elsie was unanimously chosen to fill Miss Nixon's shoes as trainer of the young idea at the grammar school, and, as Miss Nixon was very anxious to be rid of her responsibilities in order that she might become the carefree bride of a widower with two small children, the shoe-filling took place in a fortnight.
From her first day's labors Elsie returned calm and unruffled. She had met the usual small rebellion against a new teacher, and had conquered it. She said she believed she had a good class and she should get on with them very nicely. It should be mentioned in passing, however, that Josiah Bartlett, usually the ring-leader in all sorts of trouble, was a trifle upset because the new schoolmistress lived in the same house with him, and so had not yet decided just how far it was safe to go in trespassing against law and order.
Thanksgiving day came, and the Captains entertained Miss Patience Davis and her brother and Ralph Hazeltine at dinner. That dinner was an event. Captain Eri and Mrs. Snow spent a full twenty minutes with the driver of the butcher's cart, giving him directions concerning the exact breed of turkey that was to be delivered, and apparently these orders were effectual, for Captain Luther, who was obliged to hurry back to the life-saving station as soon as dinner was over, said that he was so full of white meat and stuffing that he cal'lated he should “gobble” all the way to the beach. His sister stayed until the next day, and this was very pleasing to all hands, particularly Captain Perez.
They had games in the evening, and here the captains distinguished themselves. Seth Wingate and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Obed Nickerson came in, as did several other retired mariners and their better-halves. Obed brought his fiddle and sat in the corner and played the music for a Virginia reel, and Ralph laughed until he choked to see Captain Jerry—half of his shirt-collar torn loose from the button and flapping like a sail—convoy stout Mrs. Wingate from one end of the line to the other, throwing into the performance all the fancy “cuts” and “double-shuffles” he learned at the Thanksgiving balls of a good many years before. Captain Perez danced with Miss Patience, who assured him she had never had such a good time since she was born. The only scoffer was the bored Josiah, who, being a sophisticated New Yorker, sat in the best chair and gazed contemptuously upon the entire proceeding. He told “Web” Saunders the next day that he never saw such a gang of “crazy jays” in his life.
Even John Baxter was better that day. He seemed a trifle more rational, and apparently understood when they told him that it was Thanksgiving. There would have been no cloud anywhere had not Mrs. Snow, entering her room after Elsie had gone to bed, found that young lady awake and crying silently.
“And she wouldn't tell what the trouble was,” said the housekeeper to Captain Eri, the next day. “Said it was nothin'; she was kind of worried 'bout her grandpa. Now, you and me know it wa'n't THAT. I wish to goodness we knew WHAT it was.”
The Captain scratched his nose with a perplexed air. “There's one feller I'd like to have a talk with jest 'bout now,” he said; “that's the one that invented that yarn 'bout a woman's not bein' able to keep a secret.”
It was during the week that followed the holiday so gloriously celebrated that Captain Jerry made a mess of it, and all with the best intentions in the world. Elsie had had a hard day at the school, principally owing to the perversity of the irrepressible Josiah, whose love for deviltry was getting the better of his respect for the new teacher. The boy had discovered that Elsie never reported his bad conduct to Captain Perez, and, therefore, that the situation was not greatly different from what it had been during the reign of Miss Nixon.
On this particular day he had been a little worse than usual, and, as uneasiness and mischief in a schoolroom are as catching as the chickenpox, Elsie came home tired and nervous. Captain Eri and Mrs. Snow were certain that this increasing nervousness on the part of their guest was not due to school troubles alone, but, at any rate, nervous she was, and particularly nervous, and, it must be confessed, somewhat inclined to be irritable, during the supper and afterward, on this ill-starred night.
The beginning of the trouble was when Ralph Hazeltine called. Mrs. Snow was with her patient in the upper room, Captain Eri was out, and Captain Perez and Captain Jerry were with Elsie in the dining room. The electrician was made welcome by the trio—more especially by the captains, for Miss Preston was in no mood to be over-effusive—and a few minutes of general conversation followed. Then Captain Jerry, in accordance with his plan of campaign, laid down his newspaper, coughed emphatically to attract the attention of his partner, and said, “Well, I guess I'll go out and look at the weather for a spell. Come on, Perez.”
“Why, Captain Jerry!” exclaimed Elsie, “you were out looking at the weather only ten minutes ago. I don't think it has changed much since then. Why don't you stay here and keep us company?”
“Oh, you can't never tell about the weather 'long this coast. It's likely to change most any time. Besides,” with a wink that expressed comprehension unlimited, “I reckon you and Mr. Hazeltine don't care much 'bout the company of old fogies like me and Perez. Two's company and three's a crowd, you know. Ho, ho, ho!”
“Captain Jerry, come back this minute!”
But the Captain chuckled and shook out of the door, followed by the obedient Perez, who, having pledged fealty, stuck to his colors whatever might happen.
At another time, Elsie would probably have appreciated and enjoyed the joke as much as anyone, but this evening it did not appeal to her in the least. Ralph put in a very uncomfortable half-hour, and then cut his visit short and departed. It was rather sharp and chilly outside, but the breeze felt like a breath from the tropics compared with the atmosphere of that dining room.
It certainly was Captain Jerry's unlucky evening, for he left Perez chatting with a fisherman friend, who had left a favorite pipe in his shanty and had come down to get it, and entered the house alone. He had seen the electrician go, and was surprised at the brevity of his call, but he was as far from suspecting that he himself was the indirect cause of the said brevity as a mortal could be.
He came into the dining room, hung his cap on the back of a chair, and remarked cheerfully, “Well, Elsie, what did you send your company home so quick for? Land sake! twelve o'clock wa'n't none too late for me when I was young and goin' round to see the girls.”
But Miss Preston did not smile. On the contrary, she frowned, and when she spoke the Captain had a vague feeling that someone had dropped an icicle inside his shirt collar.
“Captain Jerry,” said the young lady, “I want to have a talk with you. Why do you think it necessary to get up and leave the room whenever Mr. Hazeltine calls? You do it every time, and to-night was no exception, except that by what you said you made me appear a little more ridiculous than usual. Now, why do you do it?”
The Captain's jaw fell. He stared at his questioner to see if she was not joking, but, finding no encouragement of that kind, stammered, “Why do I do it? Why?”
“Yes, why?”
“Why, 'cause I thought you wanted me to.”
“I wanted you to! Why should you think that, please?”
“Well, I don't know. I thought you two would ruther be alone. I know, when I used to go to see my wife 'fore we was married, I—”
“Please, what has that got to do with Mr. Hazeltine's visits here?”
“Why, why, nothin', I s'pose, if you say so. I jest thought—”
“What right have you to suppose that Mr. Hazeltine is calling on me more than any other person or persons in this house?”
This was something of a poser, but the Captain did his best. He sat on the edge of a chair and rubbed his knee, and then blurted out, “Well, I s'pose I—that is, we thought he was, jest 'cause he nat'rally would; that's 'bout all. If I'd thought—why, see here, Elsie, don't YOU think he's comin' to see you?”
This was a return thrust that was hard to parry, but, although the young lady's color heightened just a bit, she answered without much hesitation:
“I don't know that I do. At any rate, I have given you no authority to act on any such assumption, and I DON'T want you to put me again in the ridiculous position you did this evening, and as you have done so often before. Why, his visits might be perfect torture to me, and still I should have to endure them out of common politeness. I couldn't go away and leave him alone.”
Captain Jerry's face was a study of chagrin and troubled repentance.
“Elsie,” he said, “I'm awful sorry; I am so. If I'd thought I was torturin' of you, 'stead of makin' it pleasant, I'd never have done it, sure. I won't go out again; I won't, honest. I hope you won't lay it up against me. I meant well.”
Now, if Captain Perez had delayed his entrance to that dining room only two or three minutes longer, if he had not come in just in time to prevent Elsie's making the explanatory and soothing answer that was on her tongue, events would probably have been entirely different, and a good deal of trouble might have been saved. But in he came, as if some perverse imp had been waiting to give him the signal, and the interview between Captain Jerry and the young lady whom he had unwittingly offended broke off then and there.
Elsie went upstairs feeling a little conscience-stricken, and with an uneasy idea that she had said more than she should have. Captain Perez took up the newspaper and sat down to read. As for Captain Jerry, he sat down, too, but merely to get his thoughts assorted into an arrangement less like a spilled box of jackstraws. The Captain's wonderful scheme, that he had boasted of and worked so hard for, had fallen to earth like an exploded airship, and when it hit it hurt.
His first idea was to follow the usual procedure, and take the whole matter to Captain Eri for settlement, but the more he considered this plan the less he liked it. Captain Eri was an unmerciful tease, and he would be sure to “rub it in,” in a way the mere thought of which made his friend squirm. There wasn't much use in confiding to Captain Perez, either. He must keep the secret and pretend that everything was working smoothly.
Then his thoughts turned to Hazeltine, and when he considered the wrong he had done that young man, he squirmed again. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Ralph felt exactly as Elsie did about his interference. Captain Jerry decided that he owed the electrician an apology, and determined to offer it at the first opportunity.
And the opportunity came the very next morning, for Mrs. Snow wanted some clams for dinner, and asked him to dig some for her. The best clams in the vicinity were those in the flat across the bay near the cable station, and the Captain took his bucket and hoe and rowed over there. As he was digging, Ralph came strolling down to the shore.
Mr. Hazeltine's “Good-morning” was clear and hearty. Captain Jerry's was hesitating and formal. The talk that followed was rather one-sided. Finally, the Captain laid down his hoe, and came splashing over to where his friend was standing.
“Mr. Hazeltine,” he said confusedly, “I kind of feel as if I ought to beg your pardon. I'm awful sorry I done what I did, but, as I said to Elsie, I meant well, and I'm sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“Why, for leavin' you and her alone so when you come to the house. You see, I never thought but what you'd both like it, and 'twa'n't till she raked me over the coals so for doin' it that I realized how things was.”
“Raked you over the coals? I'm afraid I don't understand.”
It is unnecessary to repeat the whole of the long and tangled conversation that ensued. The Captain tried to explain, tumbled down, metaphorically speaking, got up again, and started off on another tack. In his anxiety to make his position perfectly clear, he quoted from Elsie's remarks of the previous evening, and then, thinking perhaps he had gone too far, tried to smooth these over by more explanations. Repeating this process several times got him into such a snarl that he scarcely knew what he was saying. When the agony was over Ralph had received the impression that Miss Preston had said his visits were a perfect torture to her, that she objected to being left alone with him, that she held Captain Jerry responsible for these things, and that the latter was sorry for something or other, though what it was he, Ralph, didn't know or care particularly. To the Captain's continued apologies he muttered absently that it was “all right,” and walked slowly away with his hands in his pockets. Captain Jerry was relieved by this expression of forgiveness. He felt that the situation wasn't what he would like to have it, but, at any rate, he had done his duty. This was a great consolation.
Ralph didn't call that evening or the next. When he did drop in it was merely to inquire concerning John Baxter's progress, and to chat for a moment with the captains. His next visit was a week later, and was just as brief and formal.
If Elsie noticed this sudden change she said nothing. There might have been some comment by the others, had not a new sensation so occupied their minds as to shut out everything else. This sensation was caused by Josiah Bartlett, who ran away one night, with his belongings tied up in a brown paper parcel, leaving a note saying that he had gone to enlist in the Navy and wasn't coming back any more.
There were lively times the next morning when the note was found. Captain Perez was for harnessing up immediately and starting off to find the lost one, hit or miss. Captain Eri soon showed him the folly of this proceeding and, instead, hurried to the railway station and sent a telegram describing the fugitive to the conductor of the Boston train. It caught the conductor at Sandwich, and the local constable at Buzzard's Bay caught the boy. Josiah was luxuriously puffing a five-cent cigar in the smoking car, and it was a crest-fallen and humiliated prodigal that, accompanied by the a fore-mentioned constable, returned to Orham that night.
But the stubbornness remained, and the next day Perez sought Captain Eri in a troubled frame of mind.
“Eri,” he said dejectedly, “I don't know what I'm goin' to do with that boy. He's too many for ME, that boy is. Seems he's been plannin' this runnin' away bus'ness for more 'n a month; been doin' errands and odd jobs 'round town and savin' up his money on purpose. Says he won't go back to school again, no matter what we do to him, and that he's goin' to git into the Navy if it takes ten year. He says he'll run away again fust chance he gits, and he WILL, too. He's got the sperit of the Old Scratch in him, and I can't git it out. I'm clean discouraged and wore out, and I know that he'll do somethin' pretty soon that 'll disgrace us all.”
“Humph!” exclaimed his friend. “Stuffy as all that, is he? You don't say! He ain't a bad boy, that is a REEL bad boy, either.”
“No, that's jest it. He ain't reel bad—yit. But he will be if he ain't fetched up pretty sudden. 'Course, I know what he needs is to be made to mind fust, and then preached to afterwards. And I know that nat'rally I'm the one that ought to do it, but I jest can't—there! If I should start out to give him the dressin' down he needs, I'd be thinkin' of his mother every minute, and how I promised to treat him gentle and not be cross to him. But SOMETHIN'S got to be done, and if you can help me out any way I'll never forgit it, Eri.”
Captain Eri scratched his chin. “Humph!” he grunted reflectively. “He couldn't git into the Navy, he's too young. More likely to be a stowaway on a merchantman and then roustabout on a cattle boat, or some such thing. Even if he lied 'bout his age and did git to be a sort of a ship's boy on a sailin' vessel, you and me know what that means nowadays. I presume likely 'twould end in his bein' killed in some rumshop scrimmage later on. Let—me—see. Bound to be a sailor, is he?”
“He's dead sot on it.”
“More fool he. Comes from readin' them ridic'lous story books, I s'pose. He ain't been on the water much sence he's been down here, has he?”
“Not more 'n once or twice, except in a dory goin' to the beach, or somethin' like that.”
“That's so, that's what I thought. Well, Perez, I'll tell you. The boy does need breakin' in, that's a fact, and I think maybe I could do it. I could use a young feller on my boat; to go coddin' with me, I mean. Let me have the boy under me—no meddlin' from anybody—for a couple of months. Let him sign reg'lar articles and ship 'long of me for that time. Maybe I could make a white man of him.”
“I don't b'lieve he'd do it.”
“I cal'late I could talk him into it. There's some butter on my tongue when it's necessary.”
“You'd have to promise not to lay a hand on him in anger. That's what I promised his mother.”
“All right, I promise it now. That's all right, Perez. You and me are old shipmates, and bound to help each other out. Just trust him to me, and don't ask too many questions. Is it a trade? Good! Shake.”
They shook hands on it, and then Captain Eri went in to talk to the unreconciled runaway. That young gentleman, fresh from his triumph over his uncle, at first refused to have anything to do with the scheme. He wasn't going to be a “cheap guy fisherman,” he was going into the Navy. The Captain did not attempt to urge him, neither did he preach or patronize. He simply leaned back in the rocker and began spinning sailor yarns. He told of all sorts of adventures in all climates, and with all sorts of people. He had seen everything under the sun, apparently, and, according to him, there was no life so free and void of all restraint as that of an able seaman on a merchant ship, or, preferably, on a fisherman; but one point he made clear, and that was that, unless the applicant had had previous training, his lot was likely to be an unhappy one.
“Of course,” he said, as he rose to go, “it was my idea to sort of train you up so's you could be ready when 'twas time to ship, but long's you don't want to, why it's all off.”
“I'll go with you, Cap!” said Josiah, whose eyes were shining.
“Good! That's the talk! You might as well sign articles right away. Wait till I git 'em ready.”
He brought pen, ink, and paper, and proceeded to indite a formidable document to the effect that “Josiah Bartlett, able seaman,” was to ship aboard the catboat Mary Ellen for a term of two months. Wages, five dollars a month.
“You see,” he said, “I've put you down as able seaman 'cause that's what you'll be when I git through with you. Now sign.”
So Josiah signed, and then Captain Eri affixed his own signature with a flourish.
“There!” exclaimed the Captain, bringing his big palm down on the back of the “able seaman” with a thump that brought water into the eyes of that proud youth, “You're my man, shipmate. We sail to-morrer mornin' at four, rain or shine. I'll call you at quarter of. Be ready.”
“You bet, old man!” said Josiah.
Captain Perez met his friend as they came out of the parlor.
“Now, Eri,” he whispered, “be easy as you can with him, won't you?”
The Captain answered in the very words of his crew.
“You bet!” he said fervently, and went away whistling. Captain Perez slept better that night.
Promptly at a quarter to four the next morning Captain Eri rapped on the parlor door. Josiah, who had been dressed since three, appeared almost instantly. They walked down to the shore together, and the Captain's eyes twinkled as he noted the elaborate roll in the boy's walk.
The Mary Ellen was anchored between the beaches, and they rowed off to her in a dory. It was pitch-dark, and cold and raw. Lanterns showed on two or three of the other boats near by, and, as Josiah and the Captain pulled up the eelgrass-covered anchor, a dim shape glided past in the blackness. It was the You and I, bound out. Ira Sparrow was at the helm, and he hailed the Mary Ellen, saying something about the weather.
“It 'll be kind of ca'm for a spell,” replied Captain Eri, “but I wouldn't wonder if we had some wind 'fore night. Here you, fo'mast hand,” he added, turning to Josiah, “stand by to git the canvas on her.”
The mainsail was soon hoisted, and the catboat moved slowly out of the bay.
“Gee! it's dark,” exclaimed Josiah, “what are you goin' way off here for? Why don't you go straight out?”
“I gin'rally take the short cut through the narrers,” replied the Captain, “but I thought you mightn't like the breakers on the shoals, so I'm goin' 'round the p'int flat.”
“Huh! I ain't a-scared of breakers. Can't be too rough for me. Wisht 'twould blow to beat the band.”
“Maybe 'twill by and by. Pretty toler'ble slick now, though.”
It was after sunrise when they reached the ledge where codfish most do congregate. The land was a mere yellow streak on the horizon. The stiff easterly blow of the day before had left a smooth, heavy swell that, tripping over the submerged ledge, alternately tossed the Mary Ellen high in air and dropped her toward the bottom. It was cold, and the newly risen December sun did not seem to have much warmth in it. Anchor over the side, the Captain proposed breakfast.
The “able seaman” did not feel very hungry, but he managed to swallow a hard-boiled egg and a sandwich, and then, just to show that he had reached the dignity of manhood, leaned back against the side of the cockpit, lit a cigarette, and observed cheerfully, “This is hot stuff, ain't it, Cap?”
Captain Eri wiped the crumbs from his mouth, leisurely produced his pipe, and proceeded to fill it with tobacco shaved from a chunky plug.
“What d'you smoke them things for?” he asked contemptuously, referring to the cigarette. “Nobody but dudes and sissies smoke that kind of truck. Here, take this pipe, and smoke like a man.”
Josiah looked askance at the proffered pipe.
“Oh, no!” he said magnanimously, “you'll want it yourself. I'll get along with these things till I git ashore; then I'll buy a pipe of my own.”
“Never you mind 'bout me. I've got two or three more below there, some'eres. Take it and light up.”
The “able seaman” took the reeking, nicotine soaked affair, placed it gingerly between his teeth, held a match to the bowl and coughingly emitted a cloud of ill-smelling smoke. The pipe wheezed and gurgled, and the Mary Ellen rocked and rolled.
“Now, then,” said Captain Eri, “we've sojered long enough. Go below, and bring up the bait bucket and the lines.”
Josiah staggered into the little cabin, reappeared with the heavy cod lines and the bucket of mussels, and watched while the Captain “baited up.”
“All ready!” said the skipper. “Two lines apiece, one over each side. Watch me.”
The cod bit almost immediately, and for ten minutes the work was exciting and lively. The Captain, watching from the corner of his eye, noticed that his assistant's pipe was wheezing less regularly, and that his lines were thrown over more and more listlessly. At length he said, “Haven't stopped smokin' so quick, have you? What's the matter—gone out? Here's a match.”
“I guessed I've smoked enough for now. I can't fish so well when I'm smokin'.”
“Bosh! If you want to be a reel sailor you must smoke all the time. Light up.”
Reluctantly the boy obeyed, and puffed with feverish energy. Also he swallowed with vigor. The cod smelt fishy; so did the bait, and the catboat rolled and rolled. Suddenly Josiah pulled in his lines, and took the pipe from his lips.
“What's the matter?” inquired the watchful skipper.
“I—I guess I won't fish any more, Cap. Kind of slow sport, ain't it? Guess I'll go in there and take a snooze.”
“I guess you won't! You shipped to fish, and you're goin' to fish. Pick up them lines.”
The boy sullenly turned toward the cabin door. Was he, who had just declared himself independent of school restraint, he who had once been the thorn in the flesh of every policeman in the —th ward, to be ordered about by this Cape Cod countryman! “Aw, go chase yourself!” he said contemptuously. A minute after, when he picked himself up from the heap of slimy fish in the bottom of the boat, he saw the Captain standing solidly on one cowhide-shod foot, while the other was drawn easily back and rested on its toe. When Josiah recovered his breath, the burst of bad language with which he assailed his companion did credit to his street bringing up. It was as short as it was fierce, however, and ended amid the cod and the mussels from the overturned bait bucket. But, as the Captain said afterwards, he was “spunky” and rose again, incoherent with rage.
“You—you—I'll kill you!” he shrieked. “You promised not to touch me, you lyin' old—”
He tried to get out of the way, but didn't succeed, and this time merely sat up and sobbed as Captain Eri said in even tones:
“No, I'm not lyin'. I promised not to lay a hand on you in anger, that's all. Fust place, I don't kick with my hands, and, second place, I ain't angry. Now, then, pick up them lines.”
The “able seaman” was frightened. This sort of treatment was new to him. He judged it best to obey now and “get square” later on. He sulkily picked up the codlines, and threw the hooks overboard. Captain Eri, calmly resuming his fishing, went on to say, “The fust thing a sailor has to l'arn is to obey orders. I see you've stopped smokin'. Light up.”
“I don't want to.”
“Well, I want you TO. Light up.”
“I won't. Oh, yes, I will!”
He eyed the threatening boot fearfully and lit the awful pipe with shaking fingers. But he had taken but a few puffs when it went over the side, and it seemed to Josiah that the larger half of himself went with it. The Captain watched the paroxysm grimly.
“Sick, hey?” he grunted, “and not a capful of wind stirrin'. You're a healthy sailor! I thought I'd shipped a man, but I see 'twas only a sassy baby. My uncle Labe had a good cure for seasickness. You take a big hunk of fat salt pork, dip it in molasses, and—”
“Oh, d-o-n-'t!” Another spasm.
“Dip it in molasses,” repeated Captain Eri.
“Don't, Cap! PLEASE don't!”
“Another thing a sailor learns is not to call his skipper 'Cap.' A fo'mast hand always says 'Aye, aye, sir,' when his off'cer speaks to him. Understand that?”
“Y-e-s. Oh, Lord!”
“WHAT?”
“Ye—I mean aye, aye.”
“Aye, aye, WHAT?”
“Aye, aye, SIR! OH, dear me!”
“That's better. Now pick up them lines.”
Well, 'twas a dreadful forenoon for Josiah; one not to be forgotten. The boat rolled unceasingly, his head ached, and pulling the heavy cod made his back and shoulders lame; also, he was wet and cold. The other boats scattered about the fishing grounds pulled up their anchors and started for home, but Captain Eri did not budge. At noon he opened his lunch basket again, and munched serenely. The sight of the greasy ham sandwiches was too much for the “able seaman.” He suffered a relapse and, when it was over, tumbled on the seat which encircled the cockpit and, being completely worn out, went fast asleep. The Captain watched him for a minute or two, smiled in a not unkindly way, and, going into the cabin, brought out an old pea jacket and some other wraps with which he covered the sleeper. Then he went back to his fishing.
When Josiah awoke the Mary Ellen was heeled over on her side, her sail as tight as a drumhead. The wind was whistling through the cordage, and the boat was racing through seas that were steel-blue and angry, with whitecaps on their crests. The sun was hidden by tumbling, dust-colored clouds. The boy felt weak and strangely humble; the dreadful nausea was gone.
Captain Eri, standing at the tiller, regarded him sternly, but there was the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye.
“Feelin' better?” he asked.
“Ye—aye, aye, sir.”
“Humph! Want to smoke again. Pipe right there on the thwart.”
“No, thank you, sir.”
It was some time before anything more was said. Josiah was gazing at the yellow sand-cliffs that, on every tack, grew nearer. At length the Captain again addressed him.
“Perez ever tell you 'bout our fust v'yage? Never did, hey? Well, I will. Him and me run away to sea together, you know.”
And then Captain Eri began a tale that caused the cold shivers to chase themselves from Josiah's big toe to the longest hair on his head. It was the story of two boys who ran away and shipped aboard an Australian sailing packet, and contained more first-class horrors than any one of his beloved dime novels. As a finishing touch the narrator turned back the grizzled hair on his forehead and showed a three-inch scar, souvenir of a first mate and a belaying pin. He rolled up his flannel shirtsleeve and displayed a slightly misshapen left arm, broken by a kick from a drunken captain and badly set by the same individual.
“Now,” he said in conclusion, “I cal'late you think I was pretty hard on you this mornin', but what do you figger that you'd have got if you talked to a mate the way you done to me?”
“Don't know. S'pose I'd have been killed,—sir.”
“Well, you would, mighty nigh, and that's a fact. Now, I'll tell you somethin' else. You wanted to enlist in the Navy, I understand. You couldn't git in the Navy, anyway, you're too young, but s'pose you could, what then? You'd never git any higher 'n a petty officer, 'cause you don't know enough. The only way to git into the Navy is to go through Annapolis, and git an education. I tell you, education counts. Me and Perez would have been somethin' more 'n cheap fishin' and coastin' skippers if we'd had an education; don't forgit that.”
“I guess I don't want to be a sailor, anyway, sir. This one trip is enough for me, thank you.”
“Can't help that. You shipped 'long with me for two months, and you'll sail with me for two months, every time I go out. You won't run away again neither, I'll look out for that. You'll sail with me and you'll help clean fish, and you'll mind me and you'll say 'sir.' You needn't smoke if you don't want to,” with a smile. “I ain't p'tic'lar 'bout that.
“Then,” went on the Captain, “when the two months is up you'll be your own master again. You can go back to 'Web' Saunders and 'Squealer' Wixon and 'Ily' Tucker and their tribe, if you want to, and be a town nuisance and a good-for-nuthin'. OR you can do this: You can go to school for a few years more and behave yourself and then, if I've got any influence with the Congressman from this district—and I sort of b'lieve I have, second-handed, at any rate—you can go to Annapolis and learn to be a Navy officer. That's my offer. You've got a couple of months to think it over in.”
The catboat swung about on her final tack and stood in for the narrows, the route which the Captain had spoken of as the “short cut.” From where Josiah sat the way seemed choked with lines of roaring, frothing breakers that nothing could approach and keep above water. But Captain Eri steered the Mary Ellen through them as easily as a New York cabdriver guides his vehicle through a jam on Broadway, picking out the smooth places and avoiding the rough ones until the last bar was crossed and the boat entered the sheltered waters of the bay.
“By gum!” exclaimed the enthusiastic “able seaman.” “That was great—er—sir!”
“That's part of what I'll l'arn you in the next two months,” said the Captain. “'Twon't do you any harm to know it when you're in the Navy neither. Stand by to let go anchor!”
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