Produced by Al Haines.
Cover]
"'Shove hard, but sing easy.'" _Page 33_]
AT THE BLACK ROCKS
BY REV. EDWARD A. RAND
LONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN, AND NEW YORK THOMAS NELSON AND SONS
CONTENTS
I. Was he worth Saving? II. Caught on the Bar III. Did the Schooner come back? IV. What was he here for? V. The Lighthouse VI. Fog VII. The Camp at the Nub VIII. Visitors IX. That open Book X. The Christmas Gift XI. At Shipton again XII. On which side Victory? XIII. What to do next XIV. Guests at the Lighthouse XV. The Storm Gathering XVI. The Storm Striking XVII. Thomas Trafton, Detective XVIII. Into a Trap XIX. A Place to Stop
AT THE BLACK ROCKS.
I.
_WAS HE WORTH SAVING?_
"I might try," squeaked a diminutive boy, whose dark eyes had anunfortunate twist.
"Ye-s-s, Bartie," said his grandmother doubtfully, looking out of thewindow upon the water wrinkled by the rising wind.
"Wouldn't be much wuss," observed Bartholomew's grandfather, leaningforward in his old red arm-chair and steadily eying a failing fire as ifarguing this matter with the embers. Then he added, "You could take thesmall boat."
"Yes," said Bart eagerly. "I could scull, you know; and if the doctorwasn't there when I got there, I could tell 'em you didn't feel well,and he might come when he could."
"That will do, if he don't put it off too long," observed the old man,shaking his head at the fire as if the two had now settled the matterbetween them. "Yes, you might try."
Bartie now went out to try. Very soon he wished he had not made thetrial. Granny Trafton saw him step into the small boat moored by theshore, and then his wiry little arms began to work an oar in the sternof the boat. "Gran'sir Trafton," as he was called, came also to thewindow, and looked out upon the diminutive figure wriggling in thelittle boat.
"He will get back in an hour," observed Gran'sir Trafton.
"Ought to be," said Granny Trafton.
It is a wonder that Bartie ever came back at all. He was the very boy tomeet with some kind of an accident. Somehow mishaps came to himreadily. If any boy had a tumble, it was likely to be Bartie Trafton.If measles slyly stole into town to be caught by somebody, BartieTrafton was sure to be one catcher. In a home that was cramped bypoverty--his father at sea the greater fraction of the time, and theother fraction at home drunk--this under-sized, timid, shrinking boyseemed as continually destined for trouble as the Hudson for the sea.
"I don't amount to much," was an idea that burdened his small brain, andthe community agreed with him. If the public had seen him scullingGran'sir Trafton's small boat that day, it would have prophesied illbefore very long. The public just then and there upon the river wasvery limited in quantity. It consisted of two fishermen wearily pullingagainst tide a boat-load of dried cod-fish, a boy fishing from a rockthat projected boldly and heavily into the water, and several boysplaying on the deck of an old schooner which was anchored off the shore,and had been reached by means of a raft.
The fishermen pulled wearily on. The boys on the schooner deck ran andshouted at their play. The young fisherman's line dangled down from thecrown of the big shore-rock. The small sculler out in Gran'sirTrafton's small boat busily worked his oar. Bart did not see a blackspar-buoy thrusting its big arm out of the water, held up as a kind ofmenace, in the very course Bart was taking. How could Bart see it? Hisface was turned up river, and the buoy was in the very opposite quarter,not more than twenty feet from the bow of the boat Bart was workingforward with all his small amount of muscle. A person is not likely tosee through the back of his head. Closer came the boat to the buoy.Did not its ugly black arm, amid the green, swirling water, tremble asif making an angry, violent threat? Who was this small boy invading theneighbourhood where the buoy reigned as if an outstretched sceptre? Onsculled innocent Bartholomew, the threatening arm shaking violently inhis very pathway, and suddenly--whack-k! The boat struck, threatened toupset, and did upset--Bart! He could swim. After all the unlucky fallshe had had into the water, it would have been strange if he had notlearned something about this element; but he had reached a place in theriver where the out-going current ran with strength, and took one notlandward but seaward. How long could he keep above water--that timid,shrinking face appealing for pity to every spectator? The boys on thedeck of the old schooner soon saw the empty dory floating past, and theynow caught also the cry for help from the pitiful face of the pantingswimmer--a cry that amid their loud play they had not heard before.
"O Dick," said one of the younger boys, "there's a fellow overboard, andthere's his boat! Quick!"
At this sharp warning every one looked up. Then they rushed to theschooner's rail and looked over. Yes: there was the white face in thewater; there was the drifting boat.
The boy addressed as Dick was the leader of the party. His black,staring eyes, and his profusion of black, curly hair, would haveattracted attention anywhere. His eyes now sparkled anew, and he tossedback his bushy curls, exclaiming,--
"Boys, to the rescue! Attention! Man the _Great Emperor_."
"Throw this rope," was a suggestion made by another boy, seizing a ropelying on the deck. A rope did not move Dick's imagination so powerfullyas the _Great Emperor_. The rope was not nearly so daring as the raft,though it would have given speedy and sufficient help.
"To the rescue!" rang out Dick's voice. "Not in a rush! Ho, there!Orderly, men!"
Strutting forward with a blustering air, Dick led his rescue-band to the_Great Emperor_, which at the impulse of every rocking little wavethumped against the schooner's hull. The band of rescuers went downupon the raft with more of a tumble than was agreeable to Captain Dickof the _Great Emperor_. Dick concluded that there was too much of acrew to dexterously manage the raft in the swift voyage that must now bemade. Several would-be heroes were sent back disappointed to theschooner, and they proceeded, when too late, to cast the rope which hadbeen ignominiously spurned. It splashed the water in vain. Bartie triedto reach it; but it was like Tantalus in the fable striving to pluck thegrapes beyond his grasp.
"Cast off!" Dick was now shouting excitedly, pompously. "Pull with awill for the shipwrecked mariner!" was his second order.
This meant to use two poles in poling and paddling, as might be moreadvantageous.
In the meantime the boy fisherman on the rock had been operatingenergetically though quietly. He had seen the catastrophe, and had notceased to watch the little fellow who was struggling with the currentsomewhere between the schooner and the shore. Bartie had aimed to reachthe shore, and the distance was not great; but just in this place thecurrent ran with swiftness and power, and the little fellow's strengthwas failing him. He had given several shrieks for help, but it seemedas if he had been doing that thing all through life; and as the worldoutside of gran'sir and granny had not paid much attention to hisappeals, would the world do it now? Bart had almost come to theconclusion that it would be easier to sink than to struggle, when heheard a noise in the water and close at hand. Was it the _GreatEmperor_? No; its deck was still the scene of an impressivedemonstration of getting ready to do something. The noise heard by Barthad been made by the boy fisherman, who, stripping off his jacket,kicking off his boots, and sending his stockings after them, had thrownhimself into the water, and was making energetic headway toward Bart.It was good swimming--that of some one who had both skill and st
rengthon his side.
"Bartie!" he shouted.
What a world of hope opened before Bartie at the sound of that voice!
"Here! here! Put your hands on my shoulders, not round my neck, youknow. There! that is it. Now swim. We'll fetch her."
Fetch what? It was a pretty difficult thing to say definitely what thatindefinite "her" might mean. The current was still strong. Bart'srescuer, if alone, could have gained the shore again; but could he bringthe rescued? Bart's face, pitiful and pale, projected just above thewater, and as his wet hair fell back upon his forehead his countenancelooked like that of a half-drowned kitten.
A third party on the river, that of the fishermen in their cod-ladenboat moving slowly up river and hugging the shore for the sake of helpfrom the eddies, had now become conscious that something was going on.
"What's that a-hollerin'?" asked one of the men, Dan Eaton, reversinghis head.
"Trouble enough!" exclaimed Bill Bagley, who had also taken a lookahead. "Pull, Bill!"
"Put for them two boys, Dan! one is a-helpin' t'other."
The boat began to advance as if the dead cod-fish had become live onesand were lending their strength to the oarsmen.
"Good!" thought the rescuer in the water, who saw between him and thefar-off, level, misty sky-line a boat and the backs of two fishermen."Hold on there!" he said encouragingly to Bartie; "there's a boatcoming!"
The help did not arrive any too soon. Bartie's hands were restinglightly on his rescuer's shoulders, and he was arguing if he could notthrow his arms around the neck of his beloved object, whether it mightnot be well to relinquish his feeble, tired hold altogether, and dropback into the soft, yielding depths of the water all about him; such aneasy bed to lie down in! Life had given him so many hard berths. Thisseemed a relief.
"Ho, there you are!" shouted Dan, as the boat came up. He seizedBartie, while Bill Bagley gripped the other boy, and both Bartie and hiscompanion were hauled into the boat, rather roughly, and somewhat afterthe fashion of cod-fish, but effectually.
"Now, Dan, let us pull for that cove and land our cargo!" said Bill."You boys can walk home? We have got to go to the other side and takeour fish to town."
"Oh yes," said the rescuer.
"I--I--can--walk!" exclaimed the shivering Bartie.
"Ah, youngster, you came pretty near not walking ag'in if it hadn't beenfor t'other chap."
This made Bartie feel at first very sober, and then he looked verygrateful as he turned toward his rescuers and said,--
"I--thank--you all. I--I--I'll do as--much for you--some time."
"Will ye?" replied Bill Bagley with a grin. "Really, I hope we shan'tbe in that fix where you'll have to."
"See there!" exclaimed Dan. "There's the boat adrift!"
The Trafton boat was leisurely floating down the stream. Bart hadforgotten all about this craft. A frightened look shadowed his face.
"Don't you worry, Johnny!" said Bill Bagley kindly. "We will land you,and then go a'ter your craft."
"But I promised gran'sir to go for the doctor."
"Dr. Peters?"
"Yes."
"Wall, Dan and I are goin' near the old man's, and we'll send himover.--Won't we, Dan?"
"And I'll bring your boat up to your landing," said his young rescuer toBart. "So you go right home and get warm and don't worry."
A thankful look, like sunshine out of a dark cloud, broke out of Bart'sblack eyes, and he shrank closer to the sympathetic breast on which heleaned.
"I'll do as much for you," he whispered to the boy fisherman.
"That's all right, Bartie," replied his rescuer.
"See here!" now inquired Dan. "What are those spoonies up to? Whereare they a-goin', I wonder, on that raft? To Afriky?"
"Guess that craft's got to be picked up too. She's a-makin' for the seain spite of all their polin'," said Bill.
The _Great Emperor_ was indeed moving seaward. Captain Dick wasfrantically ordering his crew to "pull her round;" but like sovereignsgenerally, the _Great Emperor_ had a mind of its own, and would not be"pulled round." Deliberately the raft was making headway for the opensea, and possibly "Afriky." It might be a conspiracy on the part ofwind and tide to aid in this wilful attempt of the raft; but if aconspiracy, it was no secret. The tide was openly pressing against theraft with its broad blue shoulders, and the wind openly blew against theboys, as if they were so much canvas spread for its filling.
"What you up to, fellers?" shouted Dick to Dab and John Richards, whomanaged one of the poles. "Bring her round and head her for the shore!"
"We can't," said John pettishly.
"Can't!" replied Dick in scorn. "Why can't you? Tell me! Then we willspend the night on the sea.-- You pull, Jimmy."
"Can't!" said Jimmy Davis nervously. "She--she--won't turn--and--"
Here his pole slipped out of its hole and down he tumbled on the raft,his pole falling into the water.
"Down he tumbled on the raft, his pole falling into thewater." _Page 16_]
"Oh dear!" shrieked Dick. "What a set! There goes that oar! Reachafter it, Dab!"
Dab already was beating the water furiously with his pole in his effortsto reach that "oar" now adrift. It was all in vain. The conspiracy totake them all to sea and there let them spend the chilly night hadspread to the very equipments of the _Great Emperor_.
"Catch me on a raft ag'in!" whimpered John Richards.
"Catch me on one with you!" replied Dick fiercely. "Might have got thatboy if you had pulled, and now those other folks have got him."
"'Those other folks' are coming after us!" observed Dab Richards.
"Oh dear!" groaned the humiliated Dick. "Make believe pull up river."
"I won't!" said John Richards.
"Pull so that they may think that we don't need them. Now!" urged Dick.
"I won't!" declared Dab.
Jimmy Davis also was going to say, "I won't;" but he remembered that hispole was in the water, and refrained. He looked rebellious, though hesaid nothing.
There was now not only a conspiracy among the elements, but a mutinyamong the crew. Dick sulked.
"Let her drift!" he said. "I don't care!"
"She won't drift long!" remarked Dab sarcastically. "The _GreatEmperor_, that started to pick up somebody, is now going to be picked upby somebody."
Yes, the fishermen were pulling out from the shore. They picked up theboat, attached it to their own craft, and then laboriously rowed for thevessel in the hands of conspirators without and mutineers within.
"Where you chaps bound?" shouted Dan.
"Bound for the bottom of the sea," said Dick grimly.
"We'll stave that off," said Bill. "Here, take this rope! Now, we musttry to git you ashore."
It was rather a queer tug-boat that did the towing---a fisherman's doryin which, sandwich fashion, alternated piles of codfish and oarsmenrowing; Bill, Dan, and Bart's rescuer. It was a singular fleet alsothat was towed ashore--the _Great Emperor_ and Gran'sir Trafton's boat.
"Who is that boy rowing with those fishermen?" wondered Dick. "Can itbe--"
Then he concluded it could not be.
Again he guessed. "Must be--"
Then he declared it was somebody else.
Finally, when this strange fleet had been beached, Dick shouted out,"That you, Dave Fletcher?"
"Nobody else," answered Bart's rescuer, advancing. "I have been noddingto you, but I guess you didn't know who it was; and I don't wonder--theway I look after my bath. Haven't got on the whole of my rig yet. Howis Dick Pray?"
The two shook hands warmly.
"I haven't seen you for some time, Dave. I have been from home a while,going to school and so on. I am stopping at my cousin's, Sam Whittles,just now."
"And I have been here only a few days, visiting at my uncle's, FergusonBerry."
"All right. We will see each other again then. I'll leave the old rafthere and come for it when the tide is going up ri
ver."
"And I am going to get the doctor. Oh no, come to think of it, thesemen will get him for that little fellow's folks--the one we picked up,you know."
"We? You, rather. You did first-rate. Well, who was that littleshaver?"
"I heard somebody call him Bartie. That's for Bartholomew, I guess."
"Oh, it's 'Mew,'" explained Dab. "Bartholo*mew*; and they say 'Mew' forshort--'Little Mew.'"
"His face looked like a kitten's there in the water," said Dick, "and hemewed pitifully. I've heard of him. Sort of a slim thing. Well, maysound sort of heartless, but I guess some folks would say he is hardlyworth the saving. Oh, you're off, are you?"
"Yes," said one of the two fishermen who were now pushing their boat offfrom shore. "We must get to town with our fish as soon as we can."
"Well, friends, I am much obliged to you," said Dick Pray.
"So am I! so am I!" said several others.
"Count me in too," exclaimed Dave Fletcher. "Might not have been herewithout you.--Give 'em three cheers, boys!"
Amid the huzzahs echoing over the waters, the fishermen, smiling andbowing, rowed off.
"Many thanks, boys, if you will help me to turn Bart's boat over and getthe water out. I must row it up to the rock where the rest of myclothes are, and then we might all go along together. We can pick upthe fellows on the schooner."
The remnant of Captain Dick's crew on board the schooner gladlyabandoned it when Gran'sir Trafton's boat came along, and all journeyedin company up the river.
And where was Little Mew? He went home only to be scolded by gran'sirbecause he had not brought the doctor, and because he had somehow gotinto the water somewhere. Granny was not at home, and Little Mew darednot tell the whole story. He was sent upstairs to change his clothesand stay there till granny got home.
"Gran'sir don't know I haven't got another shift," whined Little Mew."Got to get these wet things off, anyhow."
He removed them and then crept into bed. It was dark when grannyreturned.
From the window at the head of his bed Bartie watched the sun go down,and then he saw the white stars come into the sky.
About that time the evening breeze began to breathe heavily; and wasthat the reason why the stars, blossom-like, opened their fair, delicatepetals, even as they say the wind-flowers of spring open when the windbegins to blow?
"They don't seem to amount to much--just like me," thought Bartie; andhaving thus come into harmony with the world's opinion of himself, heclosed his eyes, like an anemone shutting its petals, and went to sleep.
Don't stars amount to much? They would be missed if, some night, peoplelooking up should learn that they had gone for ever.
And granny coming home, having learned elsewhere the full story ofLittle Mew's exposure to an awful peril, went upstairs, and, candle inhand, looked down on the motherless child in bed fast asleep.
"Poor little boy!" she murmured. "I should miss him if he was gone.Yes, I should terribly."
She wiped her eyes, and then tucked up Bartie for the night.