HE HANDED HER A BALLHE HANDED HER A BALL
“Want to play bowls?” he asked.
“I don’t know how,” replied Anne.
“I’ll show you; it’s easy,” replied the boy, picking up a big wooden ball and balancing it on one hand. “Come on out and try,” he urged, and Anne stepped out into the yard. “Watch me!” said Frederick.
He stepped back a little, sent a keen glance toward the wooden “bottles,” as if measuring the distance, then holding the ball in one hand and leaning a little sideways, swung it back and forth for a few times and then sent it rolling across the grass. It struck one of the “bottles,” and that in falling sent over two more.
“Oh, I can do that!” exclaimed Anne.
“All right, try. I’ll set up the pins for you,” said Frederick.
Anne thought to herself that it was funny to call those wooden objects “pins.”
“You’d better take a smaller ball,” said Frederick, selecting one from a number lying near the door; and he handed her a ball that Anne thought was about the size of a pint dipper.
Frederick told her how to hold it, how to stand, and how to get the right motion to send it in a straight line.
“It’s all in your eye, looking straight, and getting the right swing,” he said.
Anne’s first ball did not go half the proper distance, but she kept on trying, and before dinner time could send a ball nearly as well as Frederick himself.
“It’s fun,” she declared. Her face was flushed with the exercise, and her eyes shining with pleasure. For the moment she had forgotten all about the wooden doll. She and Frederick stopped in the sink-room to wash their hands before going in to dinner.
“Anne plays a good game of bowls,” said Frederick, as they took their places at the table.
“I want to bowl,” exclaimed little Millicent.
“You can, any time you want to,” said Frederick, with his pleasant smile. “I’ll show you after dinner when Rose and Anne are sewing.”
Anne thought to herself that the family all wanted Millicent to do everything she wanted to, and she remembered “Martha,” and wondered what Millicent had done with her beloved doll, but did not dare ask. They were all pleasant and kind to Anne, but she felt as if Rose did not look at her quite as kindly as usual.
“I have your blue dimity all basted, my dear,” Mrs. Freeman said to Anne as they left the dining-room, “and you can sit with me and stitch up the seams this afternoon. Rose is to help Caroline with some cooking.”
Anne felt rather glad of this, for she dreaded having Rose say something about the happening of the morning. Mrs. Freeman led the way to her pleasant chamber. A little rush-bottomed rocking-chair stood near one of the windows.
“You may sit in the little chair, Anne; that is where Rose always sits. Now let’s see if this will fit your thimble-finger,” and Mrs. Freeman held out a little shining steel thimble, and fitted it on Anne’s finger. “It’s just right,” she said. “That is a little present for you, Anne; to go with the work-case that Mrs. Pierce gave you.”
“Thank you,” said Anne in a very low voice, looking at the pretty thimble, and wondering if Rose had told her mother about her trying to take the wooden doll from Millicent. “I’ll always keep it,” she said, looking up into the friendly face.
“Here is your work, my dear. Now set your stitches right along the basting, and set them evenly and as small as possible,” and Mrs. Freeman handed Anne the strips of dimity.“But about your thimble, Anne,” she continued. “I shall be better pleased if some time, when you perhaps have a thimble of silver, or have outgrown this one, you will give it to some other child who is learning to sew and has no thimble. We mustn’t plan to keep gifts always, even if we do prize them. Sometimes it is best to pass them on.”
Anne was quite sure that Mrs. Freeman meant that she ought to give the wooden doll to Millicent.
“I gave my coral beads, that Mistress Starkweather gave me, to the Indian girl,” she said, wishing in some way to prove that she was not selfish.
“That was quite right, and I am sure that Mrs. Starkweather will tell you so,” responded Mrs. Freeman.
Anne stitched away, setting her stitches very carefully. But she felt unhappy. She had quite forgotten the pleasant game with Frederick, the book that she was to write for Aunt Martha, and even the delightful fact that she was sewing on the pretty dimity dress, and had a new thimble of shining steel. All that she could think of was that she wassure that Mrs. Freeman and Rose believed her to be a selfish and ungrateful girl. “They think I want to keep everything,” she said to herself. The July day grew very warm. Mrs. Freeman leaned back in her comfortable chair, closed her eyes, and indulged in a little nap. Anne’s dark head began to nod, the pretty dimity slipped from her fingers to the floor, and the new thimble fell off and rolled under the table. Anne had gone fast asleep.
Rose, looking in at the chamber door, smiled to herself, tiptoed gently in and picked up the dimity dress and carried it to her own room, where Millicent was having her afternoon nap on her sister’s bed.
“I’ll stitch up these seams while Anne’s asleep,” thought the kind-hearted girl, “and I’ll tell her that we have a family of fairies living in this house who do things for people. I wonder if Anne ever heard of fairies?”
Mrs. Freeman was the first to wake, and, noticing that Anne’s work had vanished, smiled to herself, quite sure that Rose had taken it. It was some time later when Rose brought it back and laid the thin goods on Anne’s lap.
“Oh,” exclaimed Anne, waking suddenly,“I dreamed of ‘Martha Stoddard,’” and then, noticing the smile fade from Rose’s face, Anne wished that she had not spoken, for she felt that Rose would be sure that she was still blaming little Millicent, who entered the room that very moment holding the wooden doll.
“Where did you get the wooden doll, dear?” Mrs. Freeman asked.
“Anne gave it to me,” replied Millicent.
“O-oh!” Anne exclaimed impulsively, only to be sorry the next moment that she had not kept silent, for Mrs. Freeman looked up questioningly.
“Didn’t you give the doll to Millicent, Anne?” she asked.
Millicent looked as if she wondered why Anne had said “Oh!” and Rose looked at her wonderingly. She could not understand why Anne should not want Millicent to have the doll, and Rose began to think that Anne was indeed selfish and ungrateful, and Anne knew what her friend was thinking, and tried hard not to cry.
“You let me have it, Anne, didn’t you?” Millicent said confidently, and Anne, feeling as if she was parting from her dearest friend, managed to say: “Yes.”
Mrs. Freeman’s face brightened. “What is the doll’s name?” she asked.
“I called her ‘Martha Stoddard,’” Anne replied.
“I’ve named her over,” said Millicent. “I’ve named her ‘Anne Rose,’ and I like her best of all my dolls.”
“Have you thanked Anne for giving you her doll?” asked Mrs. Freeman.
“I’m going to give her one of mine back,” declared Millicent. “I’m going to give her Miss Fillosee Follosee.”
Anne wanted to cry out that she didn’t want any other doll, that she wanted her own dear “Martha Stoddard,” but she kept silent.
Anne picked up her thimble and said: “I’m sorry I went to sleep. I sewed only a little.”
“Let me see,” and Mrs. Freeman picked up the dress, and looked at the neatly stitched seams. “These seams are all stitched,” she said smilingly.
Anne looked at them in surprise. “Did you do them?” she asked.
Mrs. Freeman shook her head. “No,” she replied; “you see, I went to sleep, and awoke only a few moments since.”
Anne hardly knew what to make of this, for she was quite sure that she had waked when Rose entered the room.
“P’raps it’s fairies!” said little Millicent hopefully. “Don’t you know about fairies, Anne?” and Millicent came close to Anne and laid the beloved “Martha” in her lap. “I’ll tell you,” she went on, in response to Anne’s puzzled look.“Fairies are little, oh, littler than my thumb. I’ve never seen one, but Caroline’s grandmother saw one, and real good children may see them some time.”
“But how could anything so small sew?” questioned Anne.
“Fairies can do anything!” declared Millicent. “Caroline knows all about them. Let’s go out in the yard where she is sitting with her sewing and get her to tell us a fairy story.”
“Run along,” said Mrs. Freeman. “You see you need not stay in to sew, since the seams are stitched.”
Anne actually forgot “Martha Stoddard,” so that when she jumped up to follow Millicent the wooden doll fell to the floor without either Anne or Millicent heeding it.
Rose smiled as she picked it up. “Fairies are useful little people sometimes,” she said to her mother.
The days went very rapidly. Every morning Anne helped Rose with the household work, and sewed on the garments Mrs. Freeman basted for her. Every day, too, she wrote in the book for Aunt Martha. Rose made tiny sketches on many pages: of a wasp’s nest, of Anne riding “Range,” of Aunt Anne Rose; and here and therewere little landscapes. Anne had made up her mind to let Millicent keep the wooden doll, but she sometimes wished that she had left “Martha Stoddard” safe at home in Province Town.
Beside the work there were games of bowls on the green back of the house, and pleasant walks about the town. Rose and Anne had made several visits to Mistress Mason, and Anne had already purchased a fine pewter pitcher to take home to Aunt Martha, and was knitting a warm scarf for Uncle Enos. She had not spent all of her money, and planned to buy a wonderful blue silk sash, which Mistress Mason had shown the girls on one of their visits, as a gift for Amanda. She had sent a letter to Aunt Martha Stoddard by a Province Town fisherman known to the Freemans, and the time was near when “The Yankee Hero,” of which Anne’s father was first mate, was due in Boston.
“Like as not your father’s vessel will bring a fine prize into harbor,” Frederick said one morning as he and Anne were teaching Millicent to bowl, “unless some English frigate has captured her,” he added.
All up and down the coast English vessels were on the alert to seize American ships; butthe American vessels were also on the outlook and had captured many of the enemy’s ships.
“They’ll not capture ‘The Yankee Hero,’” declared Anne. “She’s sailed by Province Town sailors,” and Anne gave her head a little toss, as if to say that Province Town sailors were the best in the world, as she indeed thought they were.
Frederick laughed pleasantly. “You think a good deal of that old sand heap,” he replied.
Anne held a ball ready to roll, but at Frederick’s remark she dropped it, and stood looking at him angrily.
“It’s your turn!” he reminded her, looking at her in surprise.
“It’s not an old sand heap. It’s the loveliest place in the world. You can see twice as much salt water there as you can in Boston,” she declared.
“So you can,” agreed Frederick, “but it’s a sand heap just the same. A good place to catch cod, though.”
“Want to see my workshop?” the boy asked when they were all tired of bowling. “Father’s given me some fine pieces of wood, and I’m making a sled for Millicent to play with next winter.”
Frederick’s workshop was a corner of the carriage-house, where the fine chaise stood, and he had a work-bench there well supplied with tools, and spent many happy hours over his work.
“I’m going to have a shipyard and build ships,” he told Anne. “See this little model!” and he held up a tiny wooden ship, fully rigged, with a little American flag fastened at the top of the mainmast. “Rose made that flag,” he said proudly. “See, there’s a star for each colony, thirteen of ’em.”
Almost every day Anne and Rose walked to the wharves with Mr. Freeman to hear if there was any news of “The Yankee Hero.” It was the very last day of July when Mr. Freeman said, as they walked down the wharf, “There’s a Province Town schooner in harbor, Anne—‘The Sea Gull.’ She came for a new mainsail and will probably sail when the tide serves. There’s a boat from her now, headed for my wharf.”
Anne did not know that Amos Cary was on board the “Sea Gull,” but she was eager to see any one who came from the place Frederick had called “the old sand heap,” and watched theboat from the schooner as it came swiftly toward the Freeman wharf.
“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, and ran further out on the pier, quickly followed by Rose. “It looks just like Amos Cary’s head. Do you suppose it is?” she asked turning to Rose.
“If it is, Amos is probably with it,” Rose answered laughingly. “I suppose Amos is Amanda’s brother, who came to Brewster with you. Is it that red-headed boy sitting in the bow?”
“Yes, yes!” answered Anne, fairly jumping up and down in her excitement.
Amos was now near enough to recognize Anne, and took off his cap and waved it gaily. The boat drew up to the wharf, but Amos did not jump out as Anne expected.
“I can’t,” he explained. “Father told Captain Nash not to let me set foot on shore,” and Amos grinned as if he was delighted at what his father thought would be discipline. “I’m going to be on the ‘Sea Gull’ for months; maybe a whole year! Isn’t that fine?”
“Jump out, Amos,” said Captain Nash.
“But father said I wasn’t to step foot on shore,” responded the surprised boy.
“Unless I told you to,” added the captain, and Amos scrambled up onto the wharf a little disappointed at the permission. “Mr. Freeman has invited you to dinner,” added the captain, “but you must be here at the wharf at two sharp.”
“Yes, indeed, sir,” Amos answered promptly, looking back almost reluctantly toward the boat.
“Born for a sailor,” the captain said to Mr. Freeman, as Amos walked with Anne and Rose toward the Freemans’ house. He answered Anne’s questions about Aunt Martha, Uncle Enos, Amanda and the Starkweathers, and listened to her account of the wonderful journey to Boston.
“Wasn’t it great to be shut up in that dark room!” he exclaimed, when Anne told him of Bill Mains’ mistake. “Wish I’d been there. But maybe the ‘Sea Gull’ will run afoul of a pirate ship before long,” he concluded hopefully.
When Anne introduced him to Mrs. Freeman Amos took off his cap and bowed very politely, as he had noticed Captain Nash do. Frederick and he became friends instantly, and Amos was taken out to the workshop to see the model ship which had the American flag fastened to itsmainmast, and he listened to Frederick’s plans for building ships approvingly.
“Maybe I’ll sail one of your vessels for you,” he said. “I’m going to learn navigation. I’m not planning to be on shore much after this, I can tell you.”
Frederick listened enviously; he thought Amos was a very fortunate boy to be going for a year’s voyage on the “Sea Gull.”
“I’ll bring you some coral beads, Anne,” Amos promised as he said good-bye, and started back for the wharf. Frederick went with him, and listened admiringly to Amos’s plans of all he meant to see and do. Frederick began to think that it would be better to go to sea than to build ships. He watched the “Sea Gull’s” sails as they caught the wind, and his eyes followed the little vessel until it looked not unlike the white-winged bird whose name it bore.
As he entered the yard Rose came down the path to meet him. She had a small package in her hand.
“I want you to do something for me, Fred,” she said, “and I don’t want any one, especially Anne and Millicent, to know anything about it.”
This sounded interesting to Frederick, and he looked up hopefully. Perhaps there was some message to be carried from Boston to theAmerican troops in New York, and that he, Frederick Freeman, had been selected to carry it. Probably it was wrapped up in that package which Rose held so carefully. Why, it would be a greater adventure than any Amos Cary would encounter on the “Sea Gull.”
“Is it in that package, Rose?” he asked eagerly.
“How did you guess?” and Rose looked at her small brother in surprise.
“Come on out to the carriage-house, and tell me when you want me to start,” and Frederick grasped Rose’s arm and hurried her along. “When do you want me to start?” he asked.
“Why, right away,” answered Rose in rather a puzzled tone.
The brother and sister entered the carriage-house, and Frederick led the way to the corner where his work-bench stood, and they sat down.
“Nobody will hear us here,” said Frederick in a mysterious whisper, looking sharply about the room.
“Oh, Fred! I do believe that you are making believe that you are a Tory spy in danger of capture,” laughed Rose.
“Indeed I’m not! I wouldn’t make believe be a spy,” responded the boy scornfully. “I’m a loyal messenger, ready to carry news to General Washington!”
“Here is the message,” and Rose handed her brother the package.
Frederick took it with shining eyes, and held it closely.
“Oh, Rose, is it truly? And where am I to take it?” he asked.
“Why, Fred, you ‘pretend’ splendidly,” said his sister. “I suppose you’d really like to be messenger for Washington, but that isn’t it, you know. Just unroll that package and tell me how good a doll you can make.”
“Make a doll!” Fred flung the little bundle to the floor and looked ready to cry. “I suppose you think it’s funny to make me believe I could do something to help Washington, when you really just had an old wooden doll to show me.”
“Now, Fred,” and Rose put her hand on her brother’s shoulder, “own up that I didn’t say a word to make you imagine such a thing. You know I didn’t! I asked you if you would do something for me, and not let any one know.”
“Well, I might have known nothing interesting would happen to me,” said Frederick. “Nothing ever does,” and he regarded poor “Martha Stoddard” with scornful eyes.
“I want you to make a wooden doll as nearly like this one as you can,” said Rose. “Millicent has taken possession of this one, and it’s the only doll Anne has, and I’m sure that she doesn’t want Millicent to have it. I thought if you could make one just like it that Millicent would like the new one better, and then Anne could have her own.”
“All right,” but Fred’s voice was a little surly.
“And as for nothing happening to you, Fred, you ought to be thankful that nothing does happen, and that we are all safe and well. Suppose the British had won the battles at Concord and Lexington and Bunker Hill,” and Rose looked at her small brother more sternly than ever before. “I could tell you of something very pleasant that is going to happen to you,” she concluded.
“What is it, Rose?” and Fred was again eager and hopeful.
But Rose shook her head.“You just wait and see. Make the wooden doll. I’ll tell you when the doll is finished,” and she picked “Martha” up from the floor where Frederick had dropped her.
“Can’t I keep her for a pattern?” asked Frederick.
“Yes. Anne and Millicent are making paper dolls, and they won’t miss her for a little while, but bring her in before supper time.”
“All right,” and Frederick nodded cheerfully. He was already looking over his stock of wood for suitable pieces for the new doll, and wondering what the pleasant surprise would be.
Millicent could cut out very queer little dolls, and she and Anne were quite happy together under the big horse-chestnut tree until Anne said: “Where is my wooden doll, Millicent?”
“It’s mine; my Anne Rose,” said little Millicent placidly. “I don’t know where she is. I guess she’s lost,” and Millicent carefully folded a piece of paper to cut another doll.
“Lost!” Anne repeated.
“Yes,” agreed Millicent, indifferently. “I guess she is; p’raps she isn’t, though.”
Anne remembered Caroline’s story of elves, and was quite sure that her head was filled with them, for she felt as if she wanted to shakeMillicent, and at the thought that her dear “Martha” was really lost Anne began to cry.
Millicent put down the scissors and paper, and looked at Anne with startled eyes, and then she began to cry. Rose came running out from the carriage-house.
“What is the matter, dear?” and she kneeled down beside her little sister. But Millicent sobbed on.
“Tell me, Anne,” and she turned toward her little visitor.
“Millicent has lost ‘Martha Stoddard,’” Anne managed to reply, wiping her eyes, and feeling very much ashamed that Rose should have seen her cry.
“Nonsense! The doll isn’t lost. I saw it a minute ago. Come, Millicent; I’ll go with you and Anne for a little walk toward King’s Chapel,” and Rose held out a hand to each of the girls.
“Rose,” exclaimed Anne suddenly, “I know that you think I’m selfish about ‘Martha Stoddard,’ but Rose, listen!” and Anne looked up pleadingly into her friend’s face.“When I was a little girl, not as large as Millicent, and my mother had died, and my father and I were all alone, he made me that wooden doll! I never had anything else to play with until I went to live with Aunt Martha. It isn’t just a doll, Rose; it’s—why, it’s most like a real person,” and Anne’s voice sounded as if it was hard work to keep back the tears.
“You ought to have told me before,” replied Rose kindly. “You see, Millicent is too little to understand, and we all love her and don’t like to make her unhappy. ‘Martha’ is all right, and you shall have her safely back, dear,” and Rose’s voice was even more kind and friendly than usual as she told Anne of the new doll that Fred was making for Millicent.
“A new doll!” exclaimed Millicent happily, and could hardly wait for the time when Fred would finish it.
“So there goes my great secret!” laughed Rose. Anne was looking quite her happy self again, and Millicent was skipping along quite forgetting that she had ever wanted the wooden doll from Province Town.
“I don’t believe I like secrets anyway,” continued Rose; “let’s go back to the carriage-house and watch Fred make the new doll, and I’ll bring out the clothes I have made to dress it.”
Frederick looked up from his work in surprise when the girls entered the carriage-house. “Thought it was a secret!” he exclaimed.
“No more secrets in this family,” declared Rose.
“Glad to hear it. Now I can know what’s going to happen to me,” responded Fred.
“Of course you can. Father has to go to Salem next week and he is going to take you with him.”
“Nothing will happen in driving to Salem in the morning and back at night,” said Frederick, a little scornfully.
“Wait and see!” and Rose nodded so hopefully that Frederick wondered to himself if she had really told him all she knew about his father’s plans.
While the children were in the carriage-house they heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the driveway.
“Look!” exclaimed Frederick. “There’s a man and a woman riding into our yard. Why, the woman is riding that black colt that brought you home.”
But Rose and Anne had not waited for the end of Frederick’s exclamation. Looking outthey had seen the pretty black colt, and on its back a slight figure in a brown dress sitting very straight indeed, and wearing a hat of plaited straw with a brown ribbon—a hat exactly like the one Anne was so proud of.
There was a chorus of “Aunt Anne Rose! Aunt Anne Rose!” in which Millicent and Frederick joined, as the children ran out to welcome the unexpected visitors.
“I am here, too!” said Mr. Pierce laughingly.
The visitors were warmly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Freeman.
“I couldn’t be satisfied, after this fine saddle came, until I had taken a journey,” declared Aunt Anne Rose, with a happy little laugh. “And my boys were sure that they could keep house without us, so Silas and I started off. Having nieces to visit I felt as if I must come.”
“Anne Rose has never been in Boston before, and she thinks it must be as large as London itself,” said Mr. Pierce.
“There are indeed many places to see,” said Mrs. Freeman, “and it will be a great pleasure for us to show them to Mrs. Pierce.”
“There is Mistress Mason’s shop,” suggested Anne.
“And Governor Hancock’s fine house,” added Rose.
“And the wharves and shipyards,” said Frederick.
As they talked the little party moved toward the house. Rose ran to the kitchen to help Caroline prepare an early supper, and Mrs. Freeman sent Anne to show the visitors to the big spare chamber.
“I wear my fine hat every day,” said Anne, as she and Aunt Anne Rose went up the stairs together.
“I really think that we must take Anne back to Scituate with us,” said Mr. Pierce. “What do you say, Anne?”
“My father’s ship may come any day now,” answered the little girl, “and then we must go home to Province Town.”
It seemed to Anne as if Mrs. Pierce’s face grew very grave, and she wondered to herself if Aunt Anne Rose would really like to have her live with them.
“Your cheeks are just as red, and your eyes shine; you look just like a girl, Aunt Anne Rose,” she said admiringly, as Mrs. Pierce took off her hat and brushed her pretty black hair, that waved back from her face.
“It’s because I’m on a visit,” declared Mrs. Pierce, “and a visit to Boston. I’ve always wanted to come, and here I am! Everybody looks young and pretty when she is happy, Anne. But I’m not young. I’m past forty, and I never was pretty,” and the dark-eyed little woman smiled radiantly, as if everything in life was planned just right.
The Pierces declared that they could stay only two days, so that evening many plans were made that they should fill the time with as much pleasure as possible. Mr. Pierce had some business to attend to with various merchants, and Anne and Rose were eager to show Mrs. Pierce the shops, the fine houses and churches; and directly after breakfast the next morning Mrs. Freeman sent them all off. Millicent was quite happy to stay with Frederick and watch him finish the wooden doll, while Rose and Anne, with Aunt Anne Rose between them, started off to visit Mistress Mason’s shop, where Mrs. Pierce insisted on buying the largest of the fine dolls as a present for little Millicent,a pink silk sash for Anne and a lace collar for Rose.
“I want you girls to think often of your new aunt,” she said. “And I am hoping that when Anne’s father comes he will decide to bring her to visit us. I have written a letter to him, Anne, and I will give it to you. You must hand it to him, and tell him that you would like to come.”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the little girl, but not very eagerly. For Anne was now counting the hours until the “Yankee Hero” should reach Boston harbor, and when she and her dear father could sail off to Province Town and tell Aunt Martha all about the wonderful visit, and give Amanda the blue silk sash. She almost wished that Aunt Anne Rose had not told her about the letter.
On the morning when Mr. and Mrs. Pierce started for home, Rose and Anne went to Mistress Mason’s shop on an errand. As they walked along the street Rose exclaimed suddenly: “Anne, look! There is one of father’s best friends!” And Anne looked up to see a gentleman, wearing a cocked hat and red cloak, coming toward them. He was very erect and his wig was tied with a narrow ribbon.
“Good-morning, Mistress Rose,” he said, and Anne thought to herself that his voice was very kind and pleasant.
“Good-morning, Mr. Adams,” Rose responded. “This is Anne Nelson from Province Town.”
The friendly smile now rested on Anne. “Let me see; was there not a little maid from Province Town who helped the cause of Liberty by carrying a message to Newburyport?” he asked, clasping her hand.
Anne looked up at him and smiled. “I went with Uncle Enos,” she answered.
“So you did! And now you are a visitor in Boston, as I am myself, for my family are now living in Dedham,” he responded pleasantly, and, with a friendly message for Mr. Freeman, he bade the girls good-bye, and walked on.
“That is Mr. Samuel Adams,” explained Rose; “he came from Philadelphia but a few days ago. He signed the Declaration of Independence, Anne. And father says had it not been for Samuel Adams ’twould have been years before Congress would have come to so great a decision.”
“And to think he knew of me!” said Anne.
“He knows of everybody who helped even a little bit toward American independence,” said Rose. “Mr. Adams goes back to Philadelphia in September. ’Twill be a fine thing to write in your book, Anne, that you have spoken to him,” said Rose, “and very likely your father will be pleased to have you go and stay with Mrs. Pierce. It’s so much nearer Boston than Province Town, and the Pierces have such a pleasant house.”
“It’s not so pleasant as my Aunt Martha’s,” declared Anne loyally.
It seemed to Rose that it would be a very fortunate thing for her little friend to live with Aunt Anne Rose, and she could not understand Anne’s eagerness to return to Province Town.
“May we not walk down to the wharf, Rose?” Anne asked eagerly. “Your father may have news of the ship.”
But Mr. Freeman only shook his head, a little soberly, Anne thought, and the day passed without any sight or news of the “Yankee Hero.”
Anne was not very happy that day. She wondered what would happen to her father if the English had captured his ship, and wished with all her heart that she was with Aunt Martha Stoddard. That night she dreamed of a fairy hid beneath her pillow, and that it whispered to her, “There is your father! Right beside the bed,” and when she awoke the next morning Anne said to herself, “I feel happy, but I don’t know why,” and then decided that a good fairy had visited her. But when she went down-stairs, there in the front hall stood a dark man smiling as Anne exclaimed, “My father!”
For the “Yankee Hero” had arrived in the early evening of the previous night, and JohnNelson had lost no time in making his way to Mr. Freeman’s house, hoping for news of Anne. And he had tiptoed into her room for a look at his little daughter, just as the fairy whispered.
There was so much for Anne to tell him! John Nelson looked very grave when he heard of Anne’s running away in the night.
“But Uncle Enos and Aunt Martha know that I believed they no longer wanted me,” pleaded Anne. “And, oh, father, Aunt Martha said I was not to go to Brewster and journey to Boston with the Freemans to see you.”
Anne had not known that her father could be so stern.
“You might never have been heard from, Anne, starting off like that. I do not know if Mistress Stoddard will be willing to again take charge of you,” he said.
But after Rose had told him the story of their journey, of Anne’s courage when they believed themselves prisoners in the house in the woods, and had said that it was really Amanda Cary’s fault more than Anne’s that she had run away, Mr. Nelson was quite ready to forgive her.
“I am glad indeed that my little girl has a good friend in Mrs. Pierce,” said Mr. Nelson,after he had read Aunt Anne Rose’s letter, “but I think we must go to Province Town at the first opportunity.”
Anne now felt that there was nothing to wish for. With her dear father safe on shore, and the prospect of soon sailing away to Province Town she was quite happy.
“You must make Rose a fine present, Anne,” he said one day as they came down King Street.
“I heard her say once that she hoped some day to have a gold ring,” replied Anne.
“You shall give her one,” said Mr. Nelson.
“I’ll give it to her when I say good-bye,” said Anne as they walked toward home.
“That may be to-morrow,” responded Mr. Nelson, “for Mr. Freeman says that not a boat from Truro, Wellfleet or Province Town has come in to Boston for a week, so if the wind favors, ’tis like to-morrow will give us a chance for a passage.”
Rose was on the porch, and as she watched Anne come up the path thought to herself that she would be very lonely without the little maid from Province Town.
“Captain Starkweather from Province Town is at father’s wharf,” she said,“and I had half a mind to tell him not to take any passengers back to Province Town, for father says he will start back when the tide serves very early to-morrow morning.”
Mr. Nelson hurried away to the wharves, and Anne and Rose went up to the attic for Anne’s book. “For I suppose we must pack up your things to-night,” Rose said. “Your father has bought you a fine portmanteau. It’s in your room now.”
Anne picked up the book, and was eager to hurry to her room to see the new bag, but Rose detained her a moment.
“Why, Anne,” she exclaimed, “you have left out the most important thing.”
“What did I leave out?” questioned Anne.
“Why, about Amanda!” replied Rose. “You started this on purpose for Mistress Stoddard, so that she could know all about your running away.”
“Oh,” said Anne, in a tone of relief, “then I haven’t forgotten anything. You see, Rose, Amanda told Aunt Martha all about it, so it’s all right.”
Rose looked at her little friend for a moment as if she were going to scold her, then she beganto smile, and leaning down kissed the little girl’s cheek.
“You know how to be a friend, Anne,” she said, “and I’m sure Amanda will never do another hateful thing to you.”
“Captain Starkweather says he’ll take me to Province Town to see his boys some time,” Frederick announced as the family gathered at the supper table, “and Anne’s father tells me that if I go to Salem to-morrow I’ll see ships that go to all parts of the world.”
“That is true, my son,” replied his father. “There’s a ship now in Salem just arrived from Cadiz with a load of salt, and another with tea and silks from China. ’Twas great good fortune that they reached harbor safely. They would have been a fine prize for some British ship.”
The Freemans all went down to the wharf with Anne the next morning. The fine portmanteau, filled with Anne’s new clothing and with her gifts for the Province Town friends, was placed carefully in the little cabin. Captain Starkweather had already hoisted the sloop’s mainsail, and gave Anne a warm welcome as her father helped her on board.
“Good-bye, good-bye, dear Rose,” Anne called back.
As the sloop swung off from the wharf and the little girl looked back toward the friends who had been so kind to her there was a little mist in her eyes.
“It’s good luck indeed to have this favoring wind,” said Captain Starkweather, as the boat moved swiftly down the harbor. “I doubt not Amanda Cary is on the beach already hoping we may have sailed at midnight,” and the Captain nodded smilingly toward Anne. “What are you watching so sharply, John?” he asked, for Mr. Nelson, shading his eyes with one hand, was watching a small schooner.
“Why, I’m wondering a bit about that schooner,” he replied. “Her sails were hoisted and her anchor up when we left the wharf, and she’s kept the same course. She couldn’t be after us right in Boston harbor, but I don’t like her keeping so close.”
“’Tis hard work to know friends from foes on land or sea these days,” said Captain Starkweather a little anxiously. For several fishermen had recently been captured by Englishvessels, the men taken to England, and their boats kept by the captors.
“Hoist the jib, John,” directed the captain. “We’ll sail away from that craft; I don’t like her company.”
Up went the jib, but the sloop did not increase the distance from the schooner. Both boats had now left Boston harbor well behind them. The sloop could not hope for any help now if the schooner really meant to capture it.
“There are guns on that schooner,” exclaimed John Nelson. “Go into the cabin, Anne, and don’t come out until I tell you to. Remember, stay in the cabin,” and almost before she realized what had happened Anne found herself in the sloop’s cabin, and the little door shut. A moment later she heard the bang! bang! of a gun, and felt the boat swing heavily to one side.
Anne’s first impulse was to open the cabin door, but she had learned one lesson by her runaway journey—to obey and wait. It was very hard for the little girl to keep quiet, for she could hear her father’s voice, and that of Captain Starkweather, and loud commands in strange voices, and the sloop seemed to be moving this way and that as if it had lost its pilot.
“We are captured by that English boat; I know we are,” Anne whispered to herself.
And that was really what had happened. The English schooner had sent a shot through Captain Starkweather’s fine new mainsail, followed by a command to lay to, and before Mr. Nelson had had time to fasten the door of the cabin, the schooner was abreast of the sloop and in a few moments the Province Town boat was taken in tow by the English schooner, and Mr. Nelson and Captain Starkweather found themselves prisoners.
“Leave ’em on deck, but make sure they can’t move hands or feet,” Anne heard a rough voice command, and there was the sound of scuffling feet, and gradually the noise ceased; and all that Anne could hear was a faint murmur of voices, and the ripple of the water against the side of the boat. These sounds gradually ceased, and the frightened child realized that the wind had died away, and that the boats were becalmed. She peered out of the little cabin window and saw that the English boat was very near. The tide sent the sloop close to the schooner, and now Anne could hear voices very plainly.
“Pull in that tow line, and make fast to the sloop,” she heard the same gruff voice command, and in a few moments the sloop lay beside the schooner.
“I could get on board just as easy,” Anne thought, and wondered if her father would tell the English that his little daughter was in the sloop’s cabin.
Poor John Nelson, lying on the schooner’s deck, tied hand and foot, feared every moment that his conquerors would discover that there was another passenger on board the boat. “They would not harm my little maid,” he assuredhimself, “but there is food and water in the sloop’s cabin, and Anne is best off there.”
Both he and Captain Starkweather hoped that some American vessel might come to their rescue. But now that the wind had died away there was no chance of that for the present.
“A midsummer calm. May be stuck here for twenty-four hours,” Anne heard a grumbling voice declare.
The long summer day dragged by. Anne opened the lunch basket, but had little appetite. At sunset there was a ripple of wind and the two boats, side by side, moved a short distance.
Anne, shut up in the tiny cabin, had come to a great resolve. “Father told me to stay here, but if I could creep aboard the schooner and untie the cords, then father and Captain Starkweather could get free,” she thought. And the more she thought of it, the more sure she was that she could do it.
The twilight deepened, and now Anne ventured to push open the cabin door a little way. The sailors were in the forecastle, but Anne could see a dark figure in the stern of the schooner. She ventured out and softly closed the cabin door. Now, on her hands and knees,the little girl crept across the little space toward the side of the schooner. It looked like a black wall, but not very high above her, and there were ropes; and Anne was used to boats. Grasping a rope she drew herself up, hand over hand, until she could reach the deck-rail. Now she gave a swift glance toward the dark figure at the stern. “I do believe he’s asleep,” she thought, and Anne now pulled herself to the top of the rail and dropped noiselessly to the deck of the schooner. For a few moments she cowered in the shadow, and then looked anxiously about. Near the cabin she could see two black shadows, and knew that they were her father and Captain Starkweather.
Keeping close in the shadow Anne crept along the deck. But, noiseless as her progress had been, Anne had been seen the moment her little figure reached the top of the deck rail. John Nelson’s keen eyes, staring into the summer night, had recognized his little daughter, and instantly realized that Anne meant to help them. He held his breath for fear that some sharp ear had caught a sound, and then whispered to his companion, “Don’t move, or call out, captain; Anne is on deck and will help us.”
The little girl was now close beside her father. “Feet first, Anne,” he whispered, and Anne’s eager fingers pulled and worked at the tough knots so securely tied until they loosened, and John Nelson could move his feet. Her father did not dare even whisper again. He longed to tell her to hurry, but dared not speak. Anne was now tugging and twisting at the rope which held her father’s wrists, and managed to loosen it so that he could work his hands free. Then they both began to loosen Captain Starkweather’s cords, and in a few minutes he too was free. The same thought was running through the minds of both men: If a girl like Anne had such courage, why couldn’t two sailors make a prize of this good English boat?
“Go back to the sloop’s cabin, Anne. We’ll follow,” whispered her father. And Anne obeyed. She was not afraid now. How easy it had been, she thought happily, as she slid down the rope to the sloop’s deck, and found herself again in the little cabin.
The dark figure, dozing at the schooner’s helm, did not see the two creeping men who so suddenly were upon him. A twisted scarf over his mouth, and no sound to warn his mates, hishands and feet bound with the very cords that had secured his prisoners, he was left a captive. Then John Nelson and Captain Starkweather sped toward the forecastle; the open hatchway was closed so quickly that the men below hardly realized what had happened, and it was securely fastened before they could help themselves.
“The breeze is coming,” declared Captain Starkweather. “Shall we put back to Boston, John? We’ll not know what to do with this craft in Province Town.”
“A good night’s work this, and Boston folk will be glad to see this English ‘Sea Bird’ come in to her harbor. ’Tis the same craft that has caused so much trouble to fishing boats. I’ll bring Anne on board,” and John Nelson ran to the schooner’s side and called, “Anne! Anne!” A moment later and he lifted his little daughter to the deck of the schooner.
“You are a brave child,” declared Captain Starkweather. “This schooner is really your prize, for ’tis by your courage that we have taken her.”
The schooner’s course was changed, and, the wind increasing, she swept off toward Boston harbor.
“’Twill be a good tale for Mr. Samuel Adams to hear,” said Captain Starkweather, “and you will indeed be proud of your little daughter, John. I doubt not but this will be printed in the Boston papers, and news of it sent to General Washington himself.”
It was hardly sunrise when the “Sea Bird,” towing Captain Starkweather’s sloop, came to anchor off the Freemans’ wharf. John Nelson’s hail to a friendly fisherman brought a number of boats alongside, and when he had told them of how the capture was made a chorus of huzzas filled the air. The news was carried to the other vessels in the harbor, and the “Sea Bird” was soon surrounded by small boats. One of these boats pulled for the shore, and its crew spread the news that a little girl and two sailors from Province Town had captured and brought into harbor a fine English schooner. Mr. Freeman heard the news on his way to the wharf, and saw the crew of the “Sea Bird” being marched up the street under a strong guard. The church bells were rung, and when John Nelson and Anne reached shore they were welcomed by cheers.
Rose came hurrying through the crowd.
“Oh, Anne!” she exclaimed. “Here is Mr. Samuel Adams waiting to speak to you! You are the bravest girl in the colony.”
“’Twill be a wonderful thing to tell Amanda,” said Anne happily. “Even Amos could hope for no finer adventure.”
“There’ll be prize money,” added Frederick. “I heard my father say that there’ll be a large sum for you and your father and for Captain Starkweather.”
It was a week later when they sailed once more for Province Town. It was decided that it would be safer to leave the harbor at nightfall, when there would be a better chance of the sloop not being recognized and followed by some watchful craft lurking in the lower harbor. This time the little cabin was nearly filled, for Captain Starkweather was taking gifts to each one of his six boys, beside wonderful packages for their mother, and Anne and her father could hardly wait for the time when Uncle Enos and Aunt Martha should see the set of lustre ware, the fine pewter, and the boxes of figs, dates, jellies and sweets which they were taking to Province Town.