When Deacon Zeb Clark--the same Deacon Zeb who fell into the cistern, as narrated by Captain Cy--made his first visit to the city, years and years ago, he stayed but two days. As he had proudly boasted that he should remain in the metropolis at least a week, our people were much surprised at his premature return. To the driver of the butcher cart who found him sitting contentedly before his dwelling, amidst his desolate acres, the nearest neighbor a half mile away, did Deacon Zeb disclose his reason for leaving the crowded thoroughfares. "There was so many folks there," he said, "that I felt lonesome."And Captain Cy, returning from the town meeting to the Whittaker place, felt lonesome likewise. Not for the Deacon's reason--he met no one on the main road, save a group of school children and Miss Phinney, and, sighting the latter in the offing, he dodged behind the trees by the schoolhouse pond and waited until she passed. But the captain, his trouble now heavy upon him, did feel the need of sympathy and congenial companionship. He knew he might count upon Dimick and Asaph, and, whenever Keturah's supervision could be evaded, upon Mr. Bangs. But they were not the advisers and comforters for this hour of need. All the rest of Bayport, he felt sure, would be against him. Had not King Heman the Great from the steps of the throne, banned him with the royal displeasure! "If Heman ever SHOULD come right out and say--" began Asaph's warning.
Well, strange as it might seem, Heman had "come right out."As to why he had come out there was no question in the mind of the captain. The latter had left Mr. Thomas, the prodigal father, prostrate and blasphemous in the road the previous evening. His next view of him was when, transformed and sanctified, he had been summoned to the platform by Mr. Atkins. No doubt he had returned to the barber shop and, in his rage and under Mr. Simpson's cross examination, had revealed something of the truth. Tad, the politician, recognizing opportunity when it knocked at his door, had hurried him to the congressman's residence. The rest was plain enough, so Captain Cy thought.
However, war was already declared, and the reasons for it mattered little. The first skirmish might occur at any moment. The situation was desperate. The captain squared his shoulders, thrust forward his chin, and walked briskly up the path to the door of the dining room. It was nearly one o'clock, but Bos'n had not yet gone. She was waiting, to the very last minute, for her "Uncle Cyrus.""Hello, shipmate," he hailed. "Not headed for school yet? Good!
I cal'late you needn't go this afternoon. I'm thinkin' of hirin' a team and drivin' to Ostable, and I didn't know but you'd like to go with me. Think you could, without that teacher woman havin' you brought up aft for mutiny?"Bos'n thought it over.
"Yes, sir," she said; "I guess so, if you wrote me an excuse. Idon't like to be absent, 'cause I haven't been before, but there's only my reading lesson this afternoon and I know that ever so well.
I'd love to go, Uncle Cy."
The captain removed his coat and hat and pulled a chair forward to the table.
"Hello!" he exclaimed. "What's this--the mail?"Bos'n smiled delightedly.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I knew you was at the meeting and so Ibrought it from the office. Ain't you glad?""Sure! Yes, indeed! Much obliged. Tryin' to keep house without you would be like steerin' without a rudder."Even as he said it there came to him the realization that he might have to steer without that rudder in the near future. His smile vanished. He smothered a groan and picked up the mail.
"Hum!" he mused, "the Breeze, a circular, and one letter. Hello! it isn't possible that-- Well! well!"
The letter was in a long envelope. He hastily tore it open. At the inclosure he glanced in evident excitement. Then his smile returned.
"Bos'n," he said, after a moment's reflection, "I guess you and me won't have to go to Ostable after all." Noticing the child's look of disappointment, he added: "But you needn't go to school. Maybe you'd better not. You and me'll take a tramp alongshore. What do you say?""Oh, yes, Uncle Cy! Let's--shall we?"
"Why, I don't see why not. We'll cruise in company as long as we can, hey, little girl? The squall's likely to strike afore night,"he muttered half aloud. "We'll enjoy the fine weather till it's time to shorten sail."They walked all that afternoon. Captain Cy was even more kind and gentle with his small companion than usual. He told her stories which made her laugh, pointed out spots in the pines where he had played Indian when a boy, carried her "pig back" when she grew tired, and kissed her tenderly when, at the back door of the Whittaker place, he set her on her feet again.
"Had a good time, dearie?" he asked.
"Oh, splendid! I think it's the best walk we ever had, don't you, Uncle Cy?""I shouldn't wonder. You won't forget our cruises together when you are a big girl and off somewheres else, will you?""I'll NEVER forget 'em. And I'm never going anywhere without you."It was after five as they entered the kitchen.
"Anybody been here while I was out?" asked the captain of Georgianna.
The housekeeper's eyes were red and swollen, and she hugged Bos'n as she helped her off with her jacket and hood.
"Yes, there has," was the decided answer. "First Ase Tidditt, and then Bailey Bangs, and then that--that Angie Phinney.""Humph!" mused Captain Cy slowly. "So Angie was here, was she?
Where the carcass is the vultures are on deck, or words similar.
Humph! Did our Angelic friend have much to say?""DID she? And _I_ had somethin' to say, too! I never in my life!""Humph!" Her employer eyed her sharply. "So? And so soon? Talk about the telegraph spreadin' news! I'd back most any half dozen tongues in Bayport to spread more news, and add more trimmin' to it, in a day than the telegraph could do in a week. Especially if all the telegraph operators was like the one up at the depot.
Well, Georgianna, when you goin' to leave?"
