CHAPTER VII
OUT TO SEA
Captain Enos and the boys returned without having found any trace of themissing cattle, and the villagers felt it to be a loss hardly to be bornethat three of their six cows should have disappeared. The men went abouttheir fishing even more soberly than before, and the women and childrenmourned loudly.
Amanda Cary waited at the spring each day for Anne's appearance. Sometimesthe two little girls did not speak, and again Amanda would make someeffort to win Anne's notice.
"Your father is a soldier," she declared one morning, and when Anne noddedsmilingly, Amanda ventured a step nearer. "You may come up to my house andsee my white kittens if you want to," she said.
There could be no greater temptation to Anne than this. To have a kittenof her own had been one of her dearest wishes, and to see and play withtwo white kittens, even Amanda's kittens, was a joy not lightly to begiven up. But Anne shook her head, and Amanda, surprised and sulky, wentslowly back toward home.
The next morning, as Anne went toward the spring, she met Amanda coming upthe hill, carrying a white kitten in her arms.
"I was just going up to your house," said Amanda. "I was bringing up thiswhite kitten to give to you."
"Oh, Amanda!" exclaimed Anne, quite forgetting her old dislike of thelittle girl, and reaching out eager hands for the kitten which Amanda gaveto her.
"My mother said that we could not afford to keep two kittens," Amandaexplained, "and I thought right off that I would give one to you."
"Thank you, Amanda," and then Anne's face grew sober, "but maybe my AuntMartha will not want me to keep it," she said.
"I guess she will," ventured Amanda. "I will go with you and find out, andif she be not pleased I'll find some one to take it."
The two little girls trudged silently along over the sandy path. Annecarried the kitten very carefully, and Amanda watched her companionanxiously.
"If Mistress Stoddard says that you may keep the kitten may I stay andplay a little while?" she asked as they came near the Stoddard house.
"Yes," answered Anne, "you may stay anyway, and I will show you myplayhouse."
Amanda's thin freckled face brightened. "If she won't let you keep thekitten you may come over to my house every day and play with mine," shesaid; and almost hoped that Mistress Stoddard would not want the littlewhite cat, for Amanda was anxious for a playmate, and Anne was nearer herage than any of the little girls of the settlement.
Mrs. Stoddard was nearly as much pleased with the kitten as Anne herself,and Amanda was told that she was a good little girl, her past unkindnesswas forgotten, and the two children, taking the kitten with them, went outto the playhouse under the pines. Amanda was allowed to hold the woodendoll, and they played very happily together until disturbed by a loudnoise near the shore, then they ran down the little slope to see what washappening.
"It's Brownie!" exclaimed Anne.
"And our cow and the Starkweathers'," declared Amanda. "Where do yousuppose they found them?"
Jimmie Starkweather drove Brownie up to the little barn, and Mrs. Stoddardcame running out to welcome the wanderer.
"Where did they come from, Jimmie?" she questioned.
"A Truro man has just driven them over," explained Jimmie; "he found themin his pasture, and thinks the Indians dared not kill them or drive themfurther."
"It's good fortune to get them back," said Mrs. Stoddard. "Now you willhave milk for your white kitten, Anne. Since the English sailors rescuedyou from the Indians, they've not been about so much."
The kitten was almost forgotten in petting and feeding Brownie, and Amandalooked on wonderingly to see Anne bring in bunches of tender grass for thelittle brown cow to eat.
"I cannot get near to our cow," she said; "she shakes her horns at me, andsniffs, and I dare not feed her," but she resolved to herself that shewould try and make friends with the black and white animal of which shehad always been afraid.
"Come again, Amanda," said Anne, when Amanda said that she must go home,and the little visitor started off happily toward home, resolving that shewould bring over her white kitten the very next day, and wondering if herown father could not make her a doll such as Anne Nelson had.
"Thee must not forget thy knitting, Anne," cautioned Mrs. Stoddard, asAnne came in from a visit to Brownie, holding the white kitten in herarms; "'twill not be so many weeks now before the frost will be upon us,and I must see to it that your uncle's stockings are ready, and that youhave mittens; so you must do your best to help on the stockings," and Mrs.Stoddard handed the girl the big ball of scarlet yarn and the stockingjust begun on the shining steel needles.
"Remember, it is knit one and seam," she said. "You can sit in the opendoorway, child, and when you have knit round eight times we will call thystint finished for the morning. This afternoon we must go for cranberries.We will be needing all we can gather before the frost comes."
Anne put the kitten down on the floor and took the stocking, eyeing thescarlet yarn admiringly. She sat down in the open doorway and began herstint, her mind filled with happy thoughts. To have Amanda speak well ofher dear father, to know that Brownie was safe in the barn, to possess awhite kitten of her own, and, above all, to be knitting herself a pair ofscarlet stockings made Anne feel that the world was a very kind andfriendly place. The white kitten looked at the moving ball of yarncuriously, and now and then made little springs toward it, greatly toAnne's amusement, but in a few moments she found that her progress wasslow, and the white kitten was sent off the broad step to play by itselfon the sandy path.
From time to time Mrs. Stoddard would come to look at Anne's knitting, andto praise the smoothness of the work.
"Your uncle says you are to have stout leather shoes," she said. "ElderHaven tells me that there will be six weeks' school this autumn and it begood news."
"Shall I go to school, Aunt Martha?" questioned Anne, looking up from herknitting.
Mrs. Stoddard nodded, smiling down at the eager little face. "Indeed youwill. 'twill be the best of changes for you. Like as not Elder Haven willteach thee to write."
"I know my letters and can spell small words," said Anne.
"I'll teach thee to read if time allows," answered Mrs. Stoddard. "YourUncle Enos has a fine book of large print; 'Pilgrim's Progress' it'snamed, and 'Tis of interest. We will begin on it for a lesson."
That afternoon found Anne and Mrs. Stoddard busily picking cranberries onthe bog beyond the maple grove. Jimmie Starkweather and Amos Cary werealso picking there, and before the afternoon finished, Amanda appeared.She came near Anne to pick and soon asked if Anne was to go to ElderHaven's school.
"Yes, indeed," answered Anne, "and maybe I shall be taught writing, andthen I can send a letter, if chance offers, to my father."
"You are always talking and thinking about your father," responded Amanda;"if he should want you to leave the Stoddards I suppose you would go in aminute."
Anne's face grew thoughtful. Never had she been so happy and well caredfor as at the Stoddards'; to go to her father would perhaps mean that shewould go hungry and half-clad as in the old days, but she remembered herfather's loneliness, how he had always tried to do all that he could forher, and she replied slowly, "I guess my father might need me more thanAunt Martha and Uncle Enos. They have each other, and my father has onlyme."
Amanda asked no more questions, but she kept very close to Anne andwatched her with a new interest.
"I wish I could read," she said, as, their baskets well filled, the twogirls walked toward home. "I don't even know my letters."
"I can teach you those," said Anne eagerly. "I can teach you just as mydear father did me. We used to go out on the beach in front of our houseand he would mark out the letters in the sand and tell me their names, andthen I would mark them out. Sometimes we would make letters as long as Iam tall. Would you like me to teach you?"
"Yes, indeed. Let's go down to the shore now," urged Amanda.
"We'd best leave our berrie
s safely at home," replied Anne, who did notforget her adventure with the Indian squaws and was now very careful notto go too far from the settlement, and so it was decided that they shouldhurry home and leave their baskets and meet on the smooth sandy beach nearAnne's old home.
Anne was the first to reach the place. She brought with her two longsmooth sticks and had already traced out an enormous A when Amandaappeared.
"This is 'A,'" she called out. "'A' is for Anne, and for Amanda."
"I know I can remember that," said Amanda, "and I can make it, too."
It was not long before a long row of huge letters were shaped along thebeach, and when Amos came down he looked at them wonderingly.
"Amos, can you spell my name?" asked his sister.
"Of course I can!" replied the boy scornfully. "I'll mark it out for you,"and in a short time Amanda was repeating over and over again the letterswhich formed her name.
After Amos had marked out his sister's name in the sand he started alongthe shore to where a dory lay, just floating on the swell of the incomingtide.
"Amos is going to fish for flounders," said Amanda; "he catches a finemess almost every afternoon for mother to cook for supper. He's a greathelp."
"Want to fish?" called out Amos as the two little girls came near the boatand watched him bait his hooks with clams which he had dug and broughtwith him.
"Oh, yes," said Anne; "do you think I could catch enough for Uncle Enos'ssupper?"
"Yes, if you'll hurry," answered the boy; "climb in over the bow."
The barefooted children splashed through the shallow curl of the waves onthe beach, and clambered over the high bow of the dory. Amos baited theirlines, and with a word of advice as to the best place to sit, he againturned to his own fishing and soon pulled in a big, flopping, resistingflounder.
"The tide isn't right," he declared after a few minutes when no bite cameto take the bait. "I'm going to cast off and pull a little way down shoreover the flats. They'll be sure to bite there. You girls sit still. Youcan troll your lines if you want to. You may catch something."
So Anne and Amanda sat very still while Amos sprang ashore, untied therope from the stout post sunk in the beach, pushed the boat into deeperwater, and jumped in as it floated clear from the shore.
It was a big, clumsy boat, and the oars were heavy; but Amos was a stoutboy of twelve used to boats and he handled the oars very skilfully.
"The tide's just turning," he said; "'twill take us down shore withoutmuch rowing."
"But 'twill be hard coming back," suggested Amanda.
"Pooh! Hard! I guess I could row through any water in this harbor,"bragged Amos, bending to his oar so lustily that he broke one of thewooden thole-pins, unshipped his oar, and went over backward into thebottom of the boat, losing his hold on the oar as he fell. He scrambledquickly back to his seat, and endeavored to swing the dory about with oneoar so that he could reach the one now floating rapidly away. But he couldnot get within reach of it.
"You girls move forward," he commanded; "I'll have to scull," and movingcautiously to the stern of the boat he put his remaining oar in the notchcut for it and began to move it regularly back and forth.
"Are you going inshore, Amos?" questioned his sister.
"What for?" asked the boy. "I've got one good oar, haven't I? We can goalong first-rate."
"It's too bad to lose a good oar," said Amanda.
"Father won't care," said Amos reassuringly; "'twa'n't a good oar. Theblade was split; 'twas liable to harm somebody. He'll not worry at losingit."
The dory went along very smoothly under Amos's sculling and with the aidof the tide. Amanda and Anne, their lines trailing overboard, watchedeagerly for a bite, and before long Anne had pulled in a good-sizedplaice, much to Amos's satisfaction. He drew in his oar to help her takeout the hook, and had just completed this task when Amanda called out:
"Amos! Amos! the oar's slipping!"
The boy turned quickly and grabbed at the vanishing oar, but he was toolate--it had slid into the water. They were now some distance from shoreand the tide was setting strongly toward the mouth of the harbor. Amoslooked after the oar and both of the little girls looked at Amos.
"What are we going to do now?" asked Amanda. "We can't ever get back toshore."