CHAPTER VIII. A SECRET TOLD.
Doctor Winslow was just leaving the room of his patient when he heard afamiliar voice in the lower hall. Hurrying down the wide stairway, he sawstanding near the door Cap'n Ezra with Muriel at his side.
"How's the lad comin'?" the keeper of the light asked eagerly, whengreetings had been exchanged and the story of the finding of Gene hadbeen told briefly.
"He'll pull through, I hope and believe," the doctor replied. "He issleeping now and since he is so thoroughly exhausted he may sleep for along time, but when he has recovered enough to sit up, I'll send over tothe island for you, Rilla, if your grand-dad will permit you to come.Sometimes pleasant companionship does more than medicine to help youngpeople to recuperate."
"I'd like to come," Muriel replied almost shyly, and yet eagerly. Thenher hazel eyes were lifted inquiringly. "May I, Grand-dad?"
It was a hard moment for the old man who had been hating city folks formany years, but he hesitated only a second, then he said: "Lem, I sort o'feel as all this has been my fault and if yo' think the boy'll get oneven keel quicker if fust mate here is on deck, now and then, yo' cancount on it, Rilly gal will come."
Doctor Winslow held out his hand. "Thanks, Ezra," he said hastily."You're more like what you used to be long ago and I'm mighty glad to seeit." Then in an earnest tone, he added: "Gene will take the place toMuriel of the older brother that every girl in this world ought to have,some one near her own age to fight her battles, to protect her when theneed arises. That's the sort of a friend Gene will be to your littlegirl, Ezra. I'll give you my word on it, because I know him, as I knewhis father before him. A finer man never lived, and like the father isthe son."
When Cap'n Ezra and Muriel were again on the main road, the girl said,"Grand-dad, bein' as we're in Tunkett, let's go over and s'prise UncleBarney."
When Rilla had been a very little girl, at Doctor Winslow's suggestion,she had adopted that good man as an uncle, but when Captain Barney heardher prattling "Uncle Lem" he declared that he wasn't going to be left outof the family circle as far as she was concerned, and from that day thekindly old Irishman had been proud indeed to be called "Uncle Barney" bythe little maid who was the idol of his heart.
They found the fisherman sitting in the sun in front of his cabin. He waswhittling out a mast for a toy schooner that he was making for ZoethWixon, a little crippled boy who lived in the shack about an eighth of amile farther along on the sand dunes.
Captain Barney looked up with a welcoming smile. Indeed his kindly Irishface fairly beamed when he saw who his visitors were. Rising, he limpedindoors and brought out his one best chair, a wooden rocker with a gaysilk patchwork tidy upon it.
All of the fisherfolk in the neighborhood had put together the Christmasbefore and had purchased the gift for the old bachelor, who was alwaysdoing some little thing to add to their good cheer.
"His house is that empty lookin', with nothin' to set on but boxes andcasks," the mother of little Zoeth had said, "an' he's allays whittlin'suthin' to help pass the time away for my little Zo, or tellin' him yarnsas gives him suthin' to think about fo' days. I'd like to be gettin'Cap'n Barney a present as would make his place look more homelike."
"So, too, would I," Mrs. Sam Peters had chimed in. "When my ol' man waslaid up for two months las' winter, like's not we would have starved ifit hadn't been for the fine cod that Cap'n Barney left at our door everyday, an' fish bringin' a fancy price then, it bein' none too plenty."
When these women told their plan, it was found that all the familiesscattered about on the meadows near the sea had some kindness of Cap'nBarney's to tell about, and when the donated nickles and dimes and evenquarters were counted, the total sum was sufficient to purchase a rockerin Mis' Sol Dexter's store. True, it had been broken a little, but SamPeters, having once been ship carpenter, soon repaired it until it lookedlike new.
As for the patchwork tidy, the little crippled boy himself had beentaught by his mother how to make that. Where to get the pretty silkpieces had indeed been a problem, for not one of the fishermen's wiveshad a bit of silk in her possession. It was then that Mrs. Sol Dexter didan almost unprecedented thing. She told how, the year before, her storewould have burned up had it not been that "Cap'n Barney," being there atthe time, had leaped right in and had thrown his slicker over the blazethat had started near where the gasoline was kept. "He knew how it mightexplode any minute," she said when recounting the tale, "but he took thechance." While she talked, Mrs. Sol was actually cutting a piece off theend of each roll of ribbon that she had in stock, and then she cut offlace enough to edge the tidy.
Captain Barney had been greatly pleased with the gift, and although henever sat on it himself, he never ceased admiring the chair and oftenwished his old mother in Ireland might have it in her cabin.
The visitors had not been there long, however, when Captain Ezra said,"Rilly gal, why don't yo' cruise around a spell? Yo'd sort o' like to goover to Wixon's, wouldn't yo' now, and see Lindy and Zoeth?"
The girl was indeed glad to go, for Lindy Wixon was near her own age. Assoon as she was out of hearing, Captain Barney looked up from hiswhittling. "Well, skipper," he inquired, "what's the cargo that yo'rewantin' to unload?"
Cap'n Ezra Bassett puffed on his favorite corncob pipe for severalthoughtful moments before he answered his friend's question. Then,looking up to be sure that his "gal" was not returning, he uncrossed hislegs and leaned forward.
"Barney, mate," he solemnly announced, "I've writ that letter I tol' youI was goin' to, some day. I reckon I've put in, shipshape, all I knowabout Rilly's father, but I don' want her to have it till arter yo'veburied me out at sea. I cal'late that'll be time enough for Rilly to lookhim up. He's like to take better care of her, when I'm gone, than any oneelse, bein' as he is her own folks."
Captain Barney bristled. "I dunno as to that," he declared. "'Pears to methat Lem Winslow or mesilf ought to be her guardeen if yo' go to cruisin'the unknown sea ahead of us. How'r we to know her own pa cares a tarnalwhoop for her. He hasn't been cruisin' 'round these waters huntin' herup, has he? Never's been known to navigate this way, sence--sence--" Hepaused. Something in the face of his friend caused him to leave hissentence unfinished. Ezra Bassett arose and looked around both corners ofthe shack. All that he saw was a stretch of rolling white sand with hereand there a clump of coarse, wiry grass or a dwarfed plum bush.
Evidently satisfied that there was no one near enough to hear, hereturned and, drawing his old armchair nearer the one occupied by CaptainBarney, he said in a low tone: "I reckon 'twa'n't his fault, so to speak.I reckon 'twa'n't." Then, noting the surprised expression in the face ofhis friend, he continued: "Truth is, he doesn't even know there _is_ alittle gal; fact was, he never did know it." Then he hurried on toexplain. "He'd gone West on business that couldn't wait, 'pears like, an'my gal reckoned as how that would be a mighty good time to come to WindyIsland and get me to forgive her and him. They was livin' in New York,but she didn't get farther'n Boston when the little one came. I got amessage to go to her at once. I went, but when I got there the doctorsaid as they both had died. _That_ was the message they'd sent on to him,but; arter all, a miracle happened. The baby showed signs of lifean'--an' what's more, she lived. I tol' the doctor he needn't sendanother message to the father. I said as I was the grand-dad, I'd tend toit and take care of the baby till he came."
While the old man talked, he had been studying a clump of wire grass inthe sand at his feet. Pausing, he cast a quick glance at his listener,and then, as quickly looked away and out to sea. For the first time inthe many years of their long friendship there was an accusing expressionin the clear blue eyes of the Irishman.
"D'y think yo've acted honest, Ez?" Captain Barney inquired. "Wa'n't itthe same as stealin' his gal?"
At that Captain Ezra flared. "Didn't _he_ steal _my_ gal fust, if itcomes to that? Turn about's fair play, ain't it?"
The old Irishman
shook his head. "Dunno as 'tis, Ez," he said slowly. "Ireckon a person's a heap happier doin' the right thing himself, whetherthe other fellar does it or not."
Captain Ezra Bassett felt none too comfortable. "Wall," he said, "that'swhy I wanted to have this talk with yo'. I got to thinkin' lately of whatwould become of Rilly if I should get a sudden call across the bar, asthe meeting-house hymn puts it, without havin' left any word, or made anyprovisions; so I reckoned I'd tell yo' as how I've writ that letter. Iput it in the iron box on the shelf way up top o' the tower where I keepthe tools for regulatin' the light."
Captain Barney nodded. He knew the shelf well, for he had often helpedclean the big lamp or aided in some needed adjustment.
"Where'd yo' reckon he is now--Rilla's dad?" he asked after they hadpuffed awhile in thoughtful silence.
"Dunno," was the reply. "Never heard sense. I allays suspicioned as howhe might have stayed anchored out West, but I _do_ know where Rilly galcan go to find out, if need be, an' I've put the address in the letter."Then the old man rose, looking the picture of rugged health. "Not thatI'm expectin' to start in a hurry on the long v'yage for which no chartshave been made," he said, "but I sort o' got to thinkin' it's well to bebeforehanded, an'----"
He did not finish the sentence, for a breeze, sweeping over the dunes,brought to them, not only the soft, salt tang of the sea, but also thenotes of a girlish song. Both men turned to see a picture which rejoicedtheir hearts. Rilla, swinging her Sunday best hat by its ribbon strings,was skipping toward them over the hard sand, her long red-brown hairblowing about her shoulders, her face radiant as she sang.
Captain Ezra beckoned to her. "Yo-ho, Rilly gal!" he called. "It'smid-morning by the sun and the big lamp's to have a fine polishin' today.I reckon the storms'll come most any time now and the light needs to beits brightest then." Turning to Captain Barney, he said in a low voice:"Keep it dark, mate, 'bout the letter in the box--till I'm gone--thentell her."
When his two best friends had departed, Captain Barney sat long in frontof his shack. He wondered what was to come of it all, but only the futurecould reveal that.