CHAPTER XXIV
BRAVE LITTLE CARRIER PIGEON!
WE have had another storm. It wrecked so many vessels and sent so manyfishermen to their death that the dreadful tenth of August will go downin the annals of Provincetown as a day of dole for the whole Cape. Somany families suffered from it. Most of them are Portuguese, and many ofthem are totally unprovided for, now that their breadwinners are taken.
At first it seemed to me that I just couldn't go down to the Fayals',but Tippy, who had been several times, said I ought to, because Mrs.Fayal has always been so good about coming in for an extra day'scleaning and has done our washing so many years, and I used to play withRosalie. I didn't know what to say or do that could be of any possiblecomfort. But Rosalie clung to me so the night that her father wasbrought home, that I sat with them till morning.
There wasn't a stronger, sturdier fisherman along the coast than JoeFayal. I've seen him go clumping past our house a thousand times in hishigh boots and yellow oilskins, and the flash of his white teeth andblack eyes always gave the impression of his being more alive than mostpeople. When I saw the white drowned thing they brought home in place ofhim I began to be afraid--afraid of the "peril of the sea." If it can do_that_ to one strong man it can do it to another.
All night Mrs. Fayal sat in a corner behind the stove. Sometimes shewrung her hands without a word, and sometimes she kept up a sort ofmoaning whimper--"The War took both my boys and now the Sea's taken myman!" I can hear her yet.
The days that followed were too full for me to worry as much as I wouldhave done otherwise over Richard's long silence. The poverty of allthose desolate families came uppermost. A fund was started for thewidows and orphans, and all parts of New England came to the rescue.Artists, actors, the summer people, the home folks--everybody responded.A series of benefits and tag days began. I was asked to serve on so manycommittees and to help in so many enterprises that I raced through thedays as if I were a fast express train, trying to make connections. Ididn't have time to think during the day, but at night when I laycounting up the time since I'd had a letter, the waves booming upagainst the breakwater took to repeating that wail of Mrs. Fayal's, andthe fog bell tolled it: "_The Sea's taken my man_." And I'd be so afraidI'd pull the covers over my ears to shut out the sound.
Then seven letters came in a bunch. The long silence had not beenRichard's fault, nor was anything the matter. There had simply beendelays in the mail service. I vowed I'd let that be a lesson to me, notto worry next time.
Barby came home late in the summer, and the very day of her arrival Ihad to go to Brewster on a "war-bread" campaign. I had promised to bedemonstrator any time they called for me. It was tough luck to have thecall hit that first day. I hadn't had her to myself for ages, and afterthe wild scramble of the summer I longed for a quiet day in a rockingchair at home, where we could talk over all the things that had happenedsince the last time we were together--principally Richard.
If there were no war now, I suppose that's about all we'd be doing thesedays, spending long, placid hours together, embroidering dainty lingerieand putting my initials on table linen and such things. But there'll beno "hope chest" for me while there's a soldier left in a hospital toneed pajamas and bandages, or one in the trenches who needs socks. Thewild beast is not only on our door-steps now, he has us by the verythroats.
Barby came with the intention of taking me back with her, and Tippy,too, if she could persuade her to go. Although we're not the veryimportant hub of a very important wheel as she is in Washington, we arethe hubs of a good many little wheels which we have started, and whichwould stop if we left. I was wild to go, but Tippy has no patience withpeople who put their hands to the plow and then look back. She keptreminding me of the various things that I have gotten into good runningorder, such as the Junior Red Cross, and a new Busy Bees Circle whichMinnie Waite is running, under my direction and prodding. They are doingwonderfully well as long as the prodding never lets up.
While we were debating the question it was settled for us in a mostunexpected way. Old Mr. Carver telephoned that he needed me dreadfullyin the office. Could I come and help him hold the fort for awhile? Hisson was very ill and had been taken to Boston for an operation. Thedraft had called so many men that practically the whole office force wasnew, and his stenographer had just left to take a government position.
Much as Barby wanted me with her, she said that that settled it. Nothinga girl of my age could find to do in Washington was as important asthat. Fish is a big item in the Nation's food supply and anything Icould do to help carry on that business helped carry on the war. Alsosome of our income depended on the success of the Plant, and if old Mr.Sammy broke down under the responsibility, strangers would have to stepin. Besides, Father would be gratified to have me called on in theemergency, just as Titcomb and Sammy III would have been if they werenot in training camp.
It was wonderful the way that old man rose up and took the reins again,after having been little more than a figurehead in the business for someyears. He seemed to be in a dozen places at once, and he found manyplaces to use me besides at the typewriter; sending me to bank, andhelping the new bookkeeper fill out checks for the pay-roll, etc. I hadthe surprise of my life when I found my own name on the pay-roll. I hadgone in to help out in the emergency, just as I would have gone to aneighbor's house in time of sickness. Also it was partly for our owninterests, and I was being more than compensated by the feeling that Iwas doing something worth while filling in in place of draftedemployees. I had no thought of being paid for it, nor of being wantedmore than a few weeks.
But Mr. Carver said I was worth more to him than an ordinarystenographer, even if I had forgotten a lot and lost my speed. I couldanswer many of the letters without dictation, and I knew so much of theinside workings of the business, he could trust me with confidentialmatters, and he could blow off steam to me when things went wrong. Inother words, I could keep up his morale. Poor old fellow, he needed tohave somebody keep it up, as time proved. His son had a relapse andthere were weeks when he was desperately worried over his condition. Heblew off steam principally about his daughter-in-law, whom he heldresponsible for the relapse.
"Always a-crying and a-fretting about those boys," he would fume. "Min'sa good woman and a good mother, but she's a selfish slacker with Sammy.Doesn't seem to think that a father _has_ any feelings. Doesn't realizethat those boys are the apple of his eye. All her goings on about them,and how it's killing her, knowing they will surely be killed, when he'sas weak as he is--it's a downright shame. She's only one of many, whycan't she do like a million other mothers, keep her own hurt out ofsight, at least till his life's out of danger."
Well, when I found I was to be paid for my work, that he really thoughtI was worth the salary the other girl got, and that he wanted to keepme permanently, I was the happiest creature that ever banged the keys ofa typewriter. For while I banged them I was counting up all the LibertyBonds I could buy in the course of a year, and how much I'd have for theRed Cross, and how much for all the other things I wanted to do. Ofcourse, I've always had my allowance, but it's nothing to the bliss ofearning money with your own fingers, to do exactly as you please with._There is no other sensation in the whole universe so gratifying, sosatisfying and so beatifying!_
When the noon whistle blew I ran down the wharf and all the way home totell Barby, then I put a big red ring round the date on the calendar.Before nightfall I put another ring around that one, for the postmanbrought me a long letter from Richard, a letter that made me so happy Ifelt like putting a red ring around the whole world.
It was somewhat of a shock to find that it was written in a hospital,although he assured me in the very first paragraph that he was perfectlywell, and over all the ill effects, before he went on to say ill effectsof _what_. This is part of it:
"Lieutenant Robbins and I went out for an observation flight over theenemy ports last Monday. Coming back something went wrong with theengine and we were compelled to drop at once
to the sea. It wasunusually rough and the waves so high there was danger of our lightseaplane being beaten to pieces before we could be rescued. There wasone chance in a thousand that some cruising patrol vessel might happenalong near enough to sight us, but there were all sorts of chances asubmarine might get us first. The wireless apparatus wouldn't work. Wehad been flying so high to get out of the bumps of air currents, and hadbeen up so long that we were not in any shape to stand a long strain.Our chief hope of rescue was in the little carrier pigeon we had withus. We always take one, but this one had never made a trial trip as longas the one it would have to take now, and we didn't know whether itwould fail us or not.
Imagine us tossing about in that frail bit of wood and canvas, the waveswashing over us at intervals, and land nowhere to be seen, watching thatwhite speck wing its way out of sight. There was a while there when I'dhave been willing to change places with old Noah, even if I had to crowdin with the whole Zoo. Well, we tossed around there for ages, it seemedto me, wet to the skin and chilled to the bone. All that night, all nextday, and till dark again, we hung on desperately before a searchlightswept across us, and we saw a cruiser coming to our rescue. It had beenhunting us all that time, for the bird went straight as an arrow withour S. O. S. call.
"The other man was past talking when they found us, and I could barelychatter. We were both so exhausted we had to be hauled aboard like acouple of water-soaked logs. But a while in the hospital has put us backto normal again, and here we are as good as new and ready to go upagain. We report for duty in the morning.
"It bowled me over when I heard what happened to our brave littlepigeon. Some fool took a shot at it, somewhere near the stationprobably, for it managed to keep going till it got home. Then, just asit reached the floor of its loft, it fell dead. A bell always rings as acarrier alights on the balanced platform. When the attendant answeredthe summons he found the pigeon lying there, one foot shot away, andblood on its little white breast. It had managed to fly the last part ofits way, mortally wounded. Lucky for us it wasn't the leg with themessage that was hit. I tell you it makes me feel mighty serious tothink that but for those little wings, faithful to the last beat, Iwouldn't be writing this letter at this present moment of A. D. 1917.
"Two things kept coming into my mind, while numb and exhausted. I clungto that busted plane, expecting every minute it would give way underus. I saw that old wooden figurehead of "Hope" that sits up on the roofof the Tupman's portico at home. Probably I was going a bit nutty, for Icould see it as plain as day. It opened its mouth and called to me overand over, that saying of Uncle Darcy's that you are always throwing atpeople. 'As long as a man keeps hope at the prow he keeps afloat.' Itkept holding its old green, wooden wreath out at me as if it were a lifepreserver, and I'll give you my word it shouted loud enough for me tohear across the noise of the wind, 'as long as a man'--'as long as aman,' until I began to try to concentrate my mind on what it was saying.I actually believe the illusion or whatever it was helped me to hold on,for I began to obey orders. I hoped that the bird would reach home andhoped it so hard and long that it kept my wits awake. I was just at thepoint of letting go from sheer exhaustion and dropping into the sea,when it loomed up on the horizon.
"Then a star came out in the sky, and I thought in a hazy way of the onein your service flag that stands for me, and I felt that if I didn'tmanage to hang on and get back to you in some way, you'd think I wasn't'true blue.' Then as I kept on staring at it, gradually I began toconfuse it with you. But that's not to be wondered at. Ever since I'veknown you I've unconsciously steered my course by you. You're sodependable. That's one of your finest traits. No matter what happensyou'll just go around in the circle of your days, true to your idealsand your sense of duty.
"And though everything was getting sort of confused to me out there inthe black water, staring death in the face, there was an underlyingcomfort in the belief that even if I didn't get back you wouldn't gointo a cloud of mourning for the rest of your days. You'd live out yourlife as it was intended, just like that star. I saw it again last nightfrom the hospital window. It rises here before daylight has entirelyfaded. The astronomers may call it Hesperus if they want to, but I'llnever see it again without calling it _you_."
I have read that letter till I know it by heart. It is getting worn inthe creases. But last night when the tolling of the fog-bell awakenedme, I groped for it under my pillow and read it once more by the glow ofmy little flashlight. I wanted to see the words again in his ownhandwriting. I cannot read often enough the part that calls me "Star."That has always been the most beautiful of names to me, even when I gaveit to one who wasn't worthy of it. I wonder if it would be possible tolive up to it, though, if Richard should never come back to me. Howcould I endure the ordinary orbit of my days? Yet how could Idisappoint him?
Next day a package came which should have reached me with the letter. Itwas the little link of aluminum they took from the leg of the deadpigeon. Fastened to it was the cartridge that held the message. Bravelittle bird! It gave its life in the cause of liberty just as truly asany man in the trenches. I wish its deed could be immortalized in someway. It makes me shudder to think on what a frail thing Richard's lifedepended, just those little white wings, speeding through tracklessspace on their mission of rescue.